The Legend of Korra: Followers of the Black God
by Nazgul1698
Summary: In a darker analogue to the Avatar universe, Korra and her friends take on the "Followers of the Black God: an organization willing to go to extreme lengths to defend the much-hated community from which their members hail. Political overtones will be blatant, but the plot will center around the struggle to stopping "Amaan" and his cult-like Followers from striking again.
1. Prologue

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

Followers of the Black God

Prologue

* * *

(This fanfiction will be a rather darker take on the events in the first season of Avatar: The Legend of Korra. There will be a fair amount of violence in this piece, and some of it will be quite graphic. However, since there won't be any sexual content or foul language, I think this is on the very edge of a T rating.

I intend for this piece to be have some haunting parallels to modern-day sociopolitical issues, but I will try not to press my particular opinions onto you. Other than that, please look for more of the cultural influences that make the whole Avatar universe so wonderful.

Let's press on.)

* * *

It was just before dawn when the blizzard finally began to subside, taking just enough mercy on a harsh, windswept valley to increase visibility beyond that which was necessary to see one's own hand in front of one's own face. It had, after all, been a particularly brutal, cold blizzard, one which had raged on for days on end until the need for food overwhelmed the need for shelter and forced some of the community's men out into the blinding snowfall to hunt.

It was probable that some of them—many of them, even—would never come home. Some were probably frozen solid already, and some others had probably become meals themselves for the wolves and other predators that stalked the cold distances.

But he would come home. She knew that he would come home, for he was the greatest hunter in the whole community, and that was why she loved him. That was also why she had arisen several hours before, to get their shared home warm and cozy, and to prepare his favorite meal so that it would be steaming hot when he returned to her.

"I'll be back on the dawn of the second day," he'd told her. He had paused, as if to look at her, or perhaps even to kiss her, but in the end, he had walked out and vanished into the darkness without another word. All she'd had to remember him were her memories, and the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach that came whenever she thought about their first night together.

It had only been a month ago. Since then…

She sighed. So many things had changed so rapidly since then, and not all of them had been good. But now… it was impossible to say that she was unhappy with her life. How could she be unhappy, when she had a husband and a home—an actual home—and a community, and the guaranteed right for her husband to use the community's territory for hunting and whatever other purposes he had to.

It was true that her first family was dead. And it was also true that there was a definite hardness in her husband's eyes when he looked at her.

But it was also true that he was taken—that he was enchanted—by her beauty.

That was no surprise. And that was because women of her race were renowned for their beauty, and she was one of the most beautiful of them all.

She was tall, though not overwhelmingly so, with a slim frame but broad hips that oscillated tantalizingly no matter what she wore. Her skin was fair, her eyes were green, and the vibrantly red hair that was typical of her nation spilled down from her shoulders to the middle of her back easily.

From a young age, she'd attracted a great deal of attention from the boys in her original community, but now that she was spoken for… and now that the only boys left in her original community were miles and miles away, she didn't have to worry about hiding her face from the world when she went out of doors.

It was almost dawn. He'd be back soon.

Already, the hut was starting to get warm, but there were more preparations to be made yet. Everything was clean—he had had few possessions when they'd been married and she had had nearly none at all, and so it hadn't taken much doing to make their home completely spotless. The food was still cooking; it was simple but nutritious stew that was starting to come to a boil over the hut's central fire and it would be ready within a few minutes.

That meant that all that was left to prepare was _her_.

So, she washed herself with a small tub of water in a corner of their home allocated for just that purpose. It didn't take her long to remove the small amount of sweat and dirt that had accumulated on her over the past few days, and after that, it took less time still for her to dry off with a thick animal skin. After she was finished, she rose, slowly, but not with anything less than athletic precision. She was a woman, certainly, but nothing about her was weak or defenseless at all.

It was time to dress, though—and quickly. Already it was twilight; multicolored rays of light were reflecting off the gathered clouds and gently falling snow to cast a diffuse glow into her home. She'd have to hurry.

After using a small leather cord to tie her hair into a single, shimmering shock that ran down the back of her neck almost to her waist, she put on her undergarments. Then, she put on her best clothes: a thick pair of furred pants, a dyed, longsleeved shirt, boots, and the black leather vest that was the national dress of her people and always had been.

She had no mirror. But just by running her hands over her face, her body, she knew that when he lay eyes on her again, it wouldn't be so very easy for him to look away. Everything she'd prepared—the house, the meal, her own body—were certain to put him in a good mood, a relaxed mood, and that was perfect, because she had major news to tell him. Major news indeed…

She felt warmth on her shoulders. The Sun had risen and was shining through one of the small east-facing windows installed in her home. And that meant that he was only moments away…

And so she stepped outside and looked across the seemingly endless landscape of snow and ice.

Their community was at the feet of a mountain range and at the behest of a valley known for its ability to channel wind, and perhaps the spirits that walked in it, with such finesse that it could strike with enough force to, at some points, throw a fully-grown man into the air.

Yet over the millennia, the men and beasts that lived in the area had come to recognize several areas within the valley that were relatively immune from the trauma. Due to minute fluctuations in the gradient of the land, the otherwise violent wind that defined the valley's climate soared twenty or so feet above the ground—leaving just enough of a gap for these areas to serve as resting grounds for passing herds—and, as such, hunting grounds for hungry men and other predators.

The nearest one was a four hour march away in good weather. In weather like this, who knew how long it had taken her husband and the others like him to get there?

He would come back exhausted, she knew. But she also knew that he would come back successful, and the fact underlying all other facts was that he would come back. He _would_ come back because he was her husband, and the greatest warrior and hunter in the community—perhaps even in the whole world.

The Black God would never harm him. She knew that because not only was he powerful, proud, and deadly to the core, he was a good man, too. He just… sometimes didn't like to show it, that was all.

But soon, her constant efforts would pay off, and he would no longer shy away from her gaze or her touch. He would come to love her as she loved him, and then, all in the world would be perfect.

These were the thoughts going through her mind when she caught sight of a lone, shadowed silhouette, approaching from the frigid distances. Excitement rose within her—she tempered it, because it might be unfounded—but it wasn't.

Her husband was back.

* * *

By the time he was in the vicinity of his home and those that surrounded it, her head was bowed and her hands were neatly resting on and top of the other on her thighs. Her eyes were shut, too, for the most part, because from time to time she would glance up to see what he'd brought back for them, but apart from that, her poise was perfect. The humility and obedience she showed him was what he deserved.

In time, he was right in front of her. She could hear him breathing hard, in a tired, labored manner, as if he was exerted but not exhausted. She could smell the sweat under his clothes, and blood that she knew wasn't his, and she knew that he had fought long and hard to ensure his survival, and hers, through the dark days of one of the harshest winters anyone had ever known.

How proud of him she was. How honored she was to be married to such a man.

"Welcome home, husband," she said quietly, because although it was very early in the morning, someone else might be awake to hear her speak.

"Wife," he replied curtly. "It's nice to be home."

He took a step closer to her. She felt very small, which was strange, for her, but he was the tallest man she'd ever seen. He towered head and shoulders over her, and the dead animal slung across his shoulders made his muscles bunch up in a way that she would have found threatening if he had been anyone else in the world.

But he was her husband. He would never harm her.

As the custom of her people dictated, she let him enter their home first and only followed after he invited her in.

The feeling of waves of heated air washing over her was pleasant, and she'd only been outside for a few moments, whereas her husband had been out of doors for forty eight hours. He'd probably made shelter at least a few times to weather the worst of the blizzard, but it was doubtful that he'd have had any time to set up more than the smallest, most rudimentary of fires.

Certainly, the roaring blaze she'd prepared for him was a sight for his sore eyes. And that was to say nothing of the somewhat aromatic, lightly spiced stew that was just coming to a steaming completion in the center of the room.

It truly was nice to be home.

He allowed himself to feel a sense of satisfaction, even of happiness as he held his arms up and bent at the waist so that his wife could help him out of the thick coat he wore over most of his clothes. A moment later, he stepped back, his torso only covered by a longsleeved shirt not dissimilar from her own, and looked over himself.

He'd gotten much more muscular in the past few months. He'd always been strong, of course, but the recent struggles of hunting and war had done a world of good for him. Now, in his hands he held the power to grip, to control, to crush, and with his chest and core he could unleash enough energy to make even the sternest of warriors blink.

And then, of course, there was his bending.

Bending, he thought, was the true power in the world, as he sat down at a low-laying table not far from the center of the room. He had hung his kills on a hook at the side of the hut; the carcasses had already been gutted and could be skinned and prepared for consumption later. For now, it was time to eat and rest—because even warriors, even benders as powerful as he was had to know their limits.

Then again, stamina was another of his strengths. He was the first of his people to return from the hunt, he knew, and now that he thought of just how bad things had gotten over the past few days, he didn't find it at all difficult to believe that he might be the _only_ one of his people to return from the hunt.

He registered this knowledge without anything more than a vague sense of disappointment. He'd grown up among his peers; they'd had every chance to push themselves to become supermen, as he had, and if they hadn't and if they died because of it, well, that was just the natural order of things.

Not that being at the top of his game was all fun, though. Certainly, that wasn't the case. There were drawbacks, he thought, as he bent a shimmering orb of water so that it circled around his hands, washing them in the most efficient manner. One of them was the incessant attention he got from the women and girls in his community; the badgering, the pleading that he'd take them to his hut and make them his. His people had somewhat strong taboos against polygamy, but he knew that if he desired it, he could have easily had several wives.

But he didn't want wives—in the plural or in the singular. It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea of being married in general, it was just that the women in his community tended to be a bit… homely.

He paused and actually frowned a little bit, and that was odd, given his disposition against displaying emotions on his face. His next thought would have been that another drawback of being a practical superman was that it engendered from others a sort of dangerous jealousy, and this thought would have perhaps led to resentment on his part toward his community elders. After the recent battle, after all, they had suddenly married him off to _her_, after all.

And… he still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He looked at her for a moment, as she rapidly made her way about their shared home, putting away his clothes and preparing the table for a meal. The food she'd cooked… it smelled nice and looked familiar, not at all like the strange, nauseating dishes her people were known to create. In fact, it appeared to be rather similar to the traditional gift of food his sister had given to him on his wedding night—and that was his favorite dish, one that he'd grown up eating from when he had been a small boy.

Come to think of it, even as he watched she was garnishing it as his sister had.

Was it a coincidence?

He didn't think so. And that meant that perhaps this girl wasn't quite as stupid as her people were given to being.

And stupidity was just one of the reasons they had fallen against his onslaught, and the like punishments lain onto them by his kinsmen when they had come onto their community's hunting grounds. They couldn't fight right, these non-bending dolts, and they didn't have the brains to avoid clustering up when engaged in combat with multiple foes. They had clustered up, and for that reason, all it had taken was a few barrages to bring their warriors down and make the survivors beg for mercy.

They had been given mercy. They had also been beaten and then dragged all the way back to the village where they would be given the terms they'd have to accept in order to keep their lives.

His community's elders hadn't pushed very hard, he thought. These people were known for their pride, and their willingness to die rather than face dishonor, yet they'd had almost all of their warriors killed or severely injured. Banishment and the surrender of a few women was a lot less than he'd have asked for if he was a village elder.

But that was how it had turned out. And that very night, after he'd spent some time healing what few wounds he'd sustained in the battle, he'd been informed that his days as a bachelor were over. He'd been taken to the center of the community, and, in a daze, he'd performed the ceremonies and said the words of matrimony, and now…

He looked at her for a moment. He rarely did. It had been a month since they'd been married, but he barely ever looked at her. Because when he looked at her…

He bit his tongue and looked away. That feeling—that accursed feeling, one that he'd never felt when he'd looked at the women in his own tribe, came over him again, and this time it came stronger than it ever had before.

And he couldn't help it. Because no matter how pathetic and stupid and weak the non-bending people of his wife were, there was no doubt that they were the most beautiful people in the world. And among that super elite, his wife, doubtlessly, reigned queen. She was youthful and pleasant and fair and pretty with dainty hands and a perfect body and the sort of angled facial features that contrasted wonderfully with his own rugged, harsh visage. Ever since he'd seen her, he'd been stricken by her, and that was why, after their first and only night together, when they had consummated their marriage, he had taken care to not look at her, to not be around her, and to keep so busy that his mind never drifted towards thoughts of sex with her again.

It had always been hard, though. And now, it was harder than ever. He was tired from his journey, and sore, and by all rights he ought to be resting right now—that's what he'd always done in the past, when he'd returned from a hunt. But she'd woken up to greet him, and warm the house for him—and have a hot meal waiting on him, and now she was kneeling at his side to present to him a large ceramic bowl of food so nostalgic and perfectly prepared that it was a wonder that a person outside of his immediate family had prepared it.

As he took the bowl from her hands, his large, dark fingers just touched their pale, feminine analogues.

For a moment, he looked down at her. And for a moment, her eyes met his.

And then he took a sip of his meal and the magical moment was over.

He shut his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of warmth emanating through his body from his mouth. That divine feeling was, perhaps, the only feeling that is in the neighborhood of the feeling of her eyes locked on his as their bodies, too, locked together.

Moments passed.

It came to his attention, in time, that she wasn't eating. She was simply kneeling at the table with her hands rested on her thighs, refilling his bowl whenever its contents grew too scarce.

His brow furrowed.

"What's the matter?" he said gruffly. "You don't like our food?"

She shook her head, not daring to meet his eyes. But before he could feel anger as a result of the apparent insult, she clarified her response.

"Among my people, it's traditional for women to not eat until after the men are finished eating."

Oh. Well, that explained it. But he wasn't about to let her off the hook so easily.

"So what you're saying is that our food isn't good enough to tempt you into trying some before I'm finished."

Hmm. That didn't come out quite right. But he'd said it, and there was no taking it back, so he gestured to her.

"Go on. Try some. Or is it really that bad…?"

He let his question hang in the air like a half-spoken threat, and so through the corner of his eye he shortly observed her filling her own bowl halfway with stew and then taking a bite.

She then said nothing.

"Well?" he prompted. "How do you like it? It's much better than that crap your people choke down, surely."

"Yes," she replied. But this time, she replied without looking at him.

He smiled to himself, having won the verbal battle. The submissiveness of the women of her race, it seemed, was such that it overwhelmed their honor and pride.

"_Dumb bitch,"_ he thought. _"It's good that you're so attractive… without that redeeming quality, I wouldn't help you if I saw you freezing to death in the snow. In two minutes, I got you to violate your own traditions and insult your own people. Idiot…"_

These were the words he told himself. But even as he repeated them in his mind, they rang empty, hollow, false—and that was because no matter what he had grown up thinking, no matter what he had been taught to think, and no matter that the murderous bandits she called brothers and cousins had killed his father when he had just been a child, there was no changing the fact that she was an innocent, beautiful rose.

If she had been of any other race, he would never have taunted her so. He would never have maneuvered her into either insulting her own people or denying him, either of which were horrible options for her.

But then, if she had been of any other race, he would probably never have looked at her twice. But she was of her race, and she was the most beautiful one of her race and that was why it took intense concentration for him to take his eyes off of her.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure what he thought of her. He wasn't sure how things would turn out between them.

Curse the elders, he thought, for forcing him to marry a person like her. And at the same time, may the Spirits bless them forever, for giving him the opportunity to spend his life with such a wonderful woman.

It was lucky that she wasn't likely to perceive just how complex his feelings toward her were. Better yet, her people were so strict with their women that she barely seemed to be aware of her body, let alone the effect it had on men like him. If she had had any knowledge at all in the arts of seduction, he thought, it would only be a matter of time before she had him eating out of her hand.

Well, he thought, at least things were relatively simple. At least there were just the two of them—and for things to remain simple, that couldn't change. They could never have children, he decided then and there, and so he promised himself that the first night they'd spent together, their wedding night, would also have to be the last night they'd spend together, ever—at least, perhaps, the last night they'd spend together when the monthly cycle all women experienced allowed her even the slightest chance of becoming pregnant.

He could live with that. And she'd better be able to, because if he ever saw her with another man, he'd kill her himself and face whatever meager punishments his elders might levy on him for acting somewhat rashly towards an adulterous wife.

A childless life might have its drawbacks, he thought, but it was the best alternative.

He was just starting to nod to himself when he noticed that she was looking at him. She seemed to be looking at him… intently, and to maintain his own sanity, and to keep the promise he'd just made to himself, he didn't dare look back. He barely even looked up.

"What is it?" he asked.

And she answered. Her first six words would come to invoke revulsion, xenophobia, hate, and a cold, gripping sense of fear as strong as the revulsion, xenophobia, hate, and fear that her husband felt as a result of her last two words.

"May the Black God have mercy," she said, "I'm pregnant."

He gripped his bowl so tightly that it shattered.

And then he turned his back on her and walked outside.

For a moment, she looked after him. Save for a tear that came to her eye, her face was unreadable.

He didn't return, though she waited, and so, eventually, she went to clean up the mess he'd made as she'd come to live the rest of her life: alone.

* * *

(Chapter one will come along soon. Until then, please feel free to review.)


	2. Chapter I

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

Followers of the Black God

Chapter One

* * *

(I should note that in this fic, people will react to injuries much more realistically than they seem to in the canon universe. In other words, one who takes a direct hit from a firebender without blocking, dodging, or mitigating the attack in another method will be badly burned.)

* * *

"Remember, Korra. Avoid going hotter than red, and if you go hotter than orange at all, you will fail this test."

The words of her firebending master rang in her ears even then, as she put on the tough, composite armor that would protect her from bumps, bruises, cuts, and, most importantly, burns.

It wasn't impervious, of course—a yellow flame would sear flesh underneath it easily; blue and white flames would scorch past it without difficulty, and it would offer essentially no protection against lightning. And apart from that, it didn't cover her body entirely.

But that was alright. The armor Korra was strapping onto herself wasn't built for combat, not exactly—it was built for training. It was built for rough training, certainly, but it wasn't meant to see actual, no-holds-barred battle.

Come to think of it, she thought to herself as she ensured that her helmet was on snug and tight, there was no armor in the world that could withstand serious assault from the elements—not that she knew of, anyway. Korra had already mastered waterbending and earthbending and so she knew that if you wanted to protect yourself from a bender who wished you harm, you had to dodge or you had to block, because there was no substance she had access to that could protect a person from the efforts of a true master.

Then again, she was the Avatar—she had more options than most. She didn't have to stick to firebending to fight firebending—she could douse her opponents with water, or else she could raise thick shields of earth between themselves and her in order to effectively stonewall all but the most violent of their attempts.

Apart from that, fire burned, and it needed air to burn. So, when she mastered airbending, she'd have yet another defense against firebending in her arsenal—she could simply remove the air from the path of the assault in order to severely weaken it or perhaps negate it altogether.

But for the moment, Korra wasn't an airbending master. In fact, she wasn't an airbender at all; much to her chagrin she'd never been able to bend air at all. It annoyed her, greatly, but all she had to do was to get through this one last test before she'd put her nose to the grindstone under the watchful, practiced eye of Tenzin, the only true airbending master in the world.

To get through this test, though, Korra couldn't use waterbending or earthbending. She had to stick to bending fire _alone_, and to do that within the constraints she'd been given would be hard.

Firebending, after all, was the physical manifestation of _will_ and overpowering energy. It was a style of bending that didn't lend itself to restraint.

This was not going to be easy.

Regardless, Korra looked forward to proving herself in the eyes of her master, and the senior members of the Order of the White Lotus. Apart from that, there was nothing on the face of the Earth she loved more than a challenge.

She was finished dressing. It was time to go.

Korra stalked out of the small underground room adjacent to the massive, perfectly-flat stadium that had been built in the South Pole just for training and testing, and found that her opponents were already waiting for her. There were two of them, and judging by the look of it, they were pure-blooded Fire Nation citizens. They greeted her with a bow—which she reciprocated—before she bowed to the distant box overlooking the stadium, where those she'd have to impress stood watching.

It was noon. The Sun was high in the sky, and that meant that the strength of all firebenders everywhere was at a relative maximum. Holding back would be hard, and that was why, when the gong that sounded the opening of the match rang out, the first thing Korra did was not to attack—but to run.

As she'd anticipated, her opponents fired twin crimson balls of fire at her position—or, rather, what had been her position just seconds ago, but Korra was circling the perimeter of the stadium at a rapid jog. Their initial attacks, therefore, struck nothing of significance, and their followups failed to track her as she continued to move.

Five more flaming orbs drifted past her before Korra decided to change tactics. Now, it was her turn to attack.

She stopped suddenly and planted her feet, adopting a powerful stance optimized for offensive operations. She breathed in—but not too rapidly—and then exhaled as she punched out one, two, three times, careful that each of the attacks she launched at her opponents were no hotter than was allowed.

Now they were on the move, though. In fact, they seemed to moving to pin her against the stadium's wall by moving at her with alarming alacrity in what could only be called a micro-scale pincer movement.

She had to escape, or else they'd overwhelm her.

So, Korra focused on the bender to her right and leaped forward before stretching out into a long, low dive and then tucking and rolling. Now, they were closer to the wall than she was, and it was easy to allow the fiery shot launched at her to sear uselessly past her.

She countered this hasty attempt to cut her off by throwing the full strength of her core and legs into a vertical punch that sent an almost too hot blast of fire at her target. It struck him, almost head on, and sent him stumbling backward.

That was an advantage. Korra was tempted to press it, but she knew that the moment she gave her other opponent a significant opening, she'd be the worse for it.

So, she feinted forward, heavily, and practically felt the jolt of anticipation her rearward opponent did as he sensed what he believed to be an opportunity. He leaped high into the air and brought his fist down, aiming to strike Korra directly in the back of the skull—

But she diverted the fireball with a sudden hook kick. Then, in the same motion, she turned and used both her left fist and left foot to send a sustained, violently red blast of fire at her opponent, holding out the attack for the full one or two seconds it took him to fall. Caught completely unexpected, he hadn't time to block and since he was midair when it first struck, he'd had no hopes of dodging. He therefore came down clasping his hands over his face and screaming in pain.

He'd be alright, though. There were healers standing by, and the greatest healer of them all—Katara—was personally watching this match. So, Korra clamped down on the instinctive concern she felt for the safety of another human being and focused on finishing the match.

Unfortunately, however, the first firebender she'd struck was no longer reeling against the edge of the stadium. He was on his feet and now that the test was a one-on-one match, he didn't have to coordinate with his teammate and could move around rapidly, dynamically, launching fireball after fireball after fireball as quickly as he liked.

And, just then, he was doing just that. Such was the intensity of the several different flaming assaults coming at her that Korra couldn't tell where her opponent was, so she gritted her teeth and moved both of her arms in a wide, counterclockwise arc.

The attack was overwhelmed by a sudden wall of flame that absorbed it and then burnt out off to the side. Korra was left unscathed.

That wouldn't last for long, though, and the more she remained a static target, the more creative she'd have to be to simply stay on her feet.

So, with that in mind, Korra, too, began to run—toward the center of the arena, in fact. The farther from the walls she was, the harder it would be to trap her and the easier it would be to dodge. And as she started to move, she caught sight of her opponent—dancing perhaps twenty yards from her and kicking in the air to prepare a series of assaults.

And she was running right at him.

She was going too fast to stop and there was no time to prepare another large-area block like the one she'd just employed. The only way to beat him was to beat him at his own game, so at the last possible second, Korra jumped into the air and matched her opponent move-for-move.

He snap-kicked with his right leg. So did she. He straight-punched with his left fist. So did she. He hook punched with his right fist. So did she. And then he turned around and with his left foot, sought to bring a scorching arc of flame toward her at a diagonal angle that would be nearly impossible to dodge, but Korra wasn't there.

She was on the ground and she was running forward. He tried to track her, but she was far too fast—in fact, she was almost underneath him and she was rolling—

Her heel connected with his toe and caused him to lose balance entirely. He flipped over halfway, flailed, and ended up nearly landing face-first on the ground. In the end, he managed to save himself by landing with a messy roll, but at that point, even he knew that the match was over.

Korra timed his landing perfect. Before he had a chance to even stand up, the red-orange blast of flame her left thrust-kick sent at him knocked him back five yards, leaving him smoking and unconscious when he came to rest.

Korra took in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. She turned to face her master and the White Lotus elders, starting to grin already—

And that was when she realized that the match was not, in fact, over. The man she'd injured had taken off his helmet and was even then rushing her, gathering large swathes of flame in each of his hands. When he got closer to her, she knew, he'd bring them together to create a flaming explosion violent enough to put her down.

Korra took two steps forward and jumped into the air. She then kicked her opponent in the chin with the ball of her foot, ending his attack prematurely and causing his head to snap back. When he fell, he hit the ground hard and stayed there.

This time, though, Korra didn't take any chances. She handed with her feet on either side of his chest and then she straddled him, holding her fist at his neck for a few seconds to show that she was "safety-killing" him.

And _then_ the gong that announced the end of the match rang.

Korra stood up, and, for a moment, looked down at her injured opponent. He was burned… but not very badly. A few days of rest and some careful healing would see that he was soon as good as new, and as for the other guy, he'd probably be alright before the day was out.

Taking a few moments to steady her breathing, Korra realized what had just happened. She had passed the last in a series of tests designed to put her through her firebending paces, and she'd done so in a minute flat! Elated, she jogged it up to the part of the stadium that was closest to the viewing box and took her helmet off.

"Well?" she asked.

She paused. The old men and women staring down at her were stoic. Her firebending master stroked his moustache, but that was the extent of any reactions Korra received.

She blinked.

"Hey, why all the long faces? We should be celebrating! I just aced my firebending test, right? How did you like my style—I didn't mess around at all, I just focused on pure, overwhelming will and power and—"

"That's the problem, Korra," her firebending instructor cut in. "At a few points in the match, your flames were orange. _Light_ orange."

Realizing what this meant, Korra dropped her relaxed, cocky pose and stood up ramrod straight, trying not to wince too badly. She… had _tried_ to dial things down a bit, but it was hard, given the nature of firebending. Apart from that, she'd only ever trained with inanimate targets that she didn't need to worry about not obliterating, so—

Come to think of it, perhaps that was part of the test. For years, White Lotus elders had spoken to her about the spiritual side of bending, and, of late, her firebending master had as well. And she'd _tried_ to be spiritual, she really had, but it just hadn't come as quickly as bending the elements had (with the glaring exception, of course, of air).

Maybe what they really were testing wasn't her strength or her combat prowess. Maybe what they were testing was how she could win fights without maiming or killing her opponents.

Because that, after all, was what had made Aang such a wonderful, popular Avatar—he didn't kill his opponents, ever. He hurt them, he injured them, and in one case, he took away their bending for good, but he had never taken a human life.

But if Korra were to face down an opponent—a real opponent who intended to do her real harm—if she attacked them with the strength and aggression she employed in training, they'd die. And—for the most part, anyway—that was unacceptable.

Maybe… the old ones had a point.

"Ever since you were a little girl," the leader of the White Lotus began to lecture her, "you've excelled at the physical side of bending. But this past test has convinced me that you've ignored the spiritual side, and the Avatar _must_ master both."

"I haven't ignored the spiritual side," Korra protested. "It just… doesn't come as easy to me, that's all—and that's why I should start training with Tenzin immediately, right? He's Mr. Spiritual, after all."

She felt the hard eyes of the dark skinned man weigh down on her and fell silent.

"Do you believe she's ready, Master Katara?" she heard him asked.

There was more silence for a moment. And just as Korra dared to look up to the woman who had helped her perfect waterbending, Katara answered.

"Yes," Katara said simply, unambiguously. "If there's anyone who can teach Korra what she needs to learn, it's Tenzin."

For a moment, the other four elders seemed unconvinced. But then, Korra's firebending master sighed—and then he smiled at her.

"If that's the case," he said slowly, almost regally, "then I give you full marks for your firebending test, Korra."

"Very well," the leader of the White Lotus said. "It's time for the Avatar to begin her airbending training."

Elated, Korra stifled a shout of "Woo hoo! Finally!" and instead bowed at the waist and looked up at the elders.

"Thank you, Master," she said with the sort of serene spirituality she'd learn to feel and not imitate. "I appreciate your faith in me."

She stood still for another moment, just long enough to convince perhaps the more gullible elders that perhaps she was disciplined at heart, before running off.

The moment she was out of immediate earshot, repeated low-pitched blasts were heard as Korra employed her mastery of three of the four elements to celebrate her success as only she could.

Her firebending master, though, simply continued to stroke his moustache. And he didn't do that when he was contemplative—he did that when he was worried.

"What's on your mind, Zhao?" the leader of the White Lotus said.

"Korra," he said simply. Only a moment later did he clarify his comment.

"Tenzin has his work cut out for him. Today, the world isn't as simple as it once was," he said. "During the Hundred Year War, it was easy to know who your enemies were. You just looked at the uniforms they wore," he said, and, after a moment, the wizened faces around him nodded to signal their agreement.

"There were civilians," Zhao admitted. "There were many civilians. But the enemies of civilization today don't wear uniforms. They don't have headquarters, or barracks, or bases. Legally, they either don't exist, or they exist in the gray area between 'criminal' and 'military threat'.

"And if that wasn't complicated enough, there is no clear line between civilian and enemy. What do you call someone, for example, who ideologically—verbally, even—supports your enemy? Are they an enemy, too?" Zhao asked. "What about those who materially support your enemies but don't directly take up arms against you? What about those who fund your enemies? What about those who _unknowingly_ support your enemy? What about those whose support of your enemy can't be proven in a court of law?"

He sighed.

"War—open war—is a terrible, brutal, destructive thing. But the one advantage it has over the situation in Republic City is that war is _simple_."

The leader of the White Lotus couldn't help but find himself in reluctant agreement. Not so very long ago, Korra would have been an indispensable asset in the free world's struggle against the Fire Nation.

In this new age, though, this age of complication, who knew if she'd do more good than harm, or if she'd do more harm than good?

* * *

Korra, of course, knew nothing of these complications. All she knew was that she was elated, and that she had to celebrate, and that there was no better way to celebrate than with her greatest friend in all the world.

It took some doing, of course, to convince the stony-faced White Lotus sentries to allow her and Naga to go out of the well-defended enclave for a romp in the snow.

"Don't worry," she'd said, "we won't go far."

That almost hadn't worked, and she knew why. For centuries, the Order of the White Lotus had existed to protect the Avatar, and so the last thing a highly trained member of that group wanted to do was to let the Avatar go out and about in an unsecured, unsafe environment—particularly now, in such a day and age.

In the end, though, Korra was allowed to go off into the snow-covered distances. She wouldn't be alone, of course—for one thing, she had Naga, but apart from that, she knew that the watchful eyes of the White Lotus were always on her. They'd give her her distance, sure, but they'd never be quite too far away—and if she ever needed them, they'd be there in a moment, willing to kill and to die for her if the need arose.

Still, the illusion of privacy, of isolation, was enough for her. And in the past weeks, during the final, hectic stages of her firebending tests, she hadn't had even those transient fantasies to cling onto.

That was why she ran Naga as hard as she ever had. She dismounted her steed as well, leaping into the air, before freezing the snow beneath her so that it formed an icy chute for her to ski down.

The force of the air striking her face was enough to throw her hood back. Anyone who hadn't been born and raised in such a frigid environment would have been chilled to the bone, then, but for Korra, this was fun—extreme, somewhat dangerous fun, but that was the best kind of fun there was.

At the end of the slope she was cutting her way down, a rise awaited. Korra used that to launch herself into the air, and there, fifty feet above the ground, she felt the greatest sense of freedom she'd ever felt in her life…

* * *

It was a small room, and, by virtue of its location, it would never, ever see the light of day.

But it was clean and lit by candles 24/7. It was also one of the safest places in Republic City—certainly, it was _the_ safest place for its owner.

After all, its location was secret, and access to it was granted only to a select few people who numbered no more than a dozen in total. And those who were allowed in—those who knew that it actually existed—were all tough young people in the primes of their lives, without families that could be threatened and without any conflicts of interest whatsoever.

They had all dedicated their lives to the cause that the room's existence itself served. And they were all willing to set their lives aside for that cause, and that was why they'd never be discovered—not by vigilante groups, nor gangs, nor the police, nor even the CIB itself.

The room operated in complete secrecy and complete isolation. And yet despite this, it had hardwired connections to several phoneline hubs around the city, allowing it to monitor several important telegraph machines owned by several important people.

The room had other purposes, too. Before the Black God's will was served by His most devoted servants, the room was used to plan out the Followers'… rituals.

Soon, it would be time for another ritual. But for now, it was time to wait, and to watch, and to _listen_.

"We've intercepted a message from Air Temple Island."

A masked face angled toward the one who'd said that.

"Where was it sent?"

"The South Pole."

Now, the owner of that masked face stood and walked perhaps five paces.

_"Tenzin is communicating with the Avatar's home base… could it be…?"_

"What is it?"

"It seems to be in response to another message… a query, or perhaps a report of some sort."

Well. The hack job was the best they could manage, but it certainly didn't allow for 100% surveillance.

"What does it say?"

"Tenzin will be traveling to The South Pole tomorrow. He said that… the situation in Republic City has taken a turn for the worse, and that he has to talk to the leader of the White Lotus in person to discuss their next move."

A smile touched a pair of lips hidden from the world.

"You can't disagree with his analysis."

_"But what is he planning? If the situation here is so dangerous… will he bring the Avatar here, or keep her in the South Pole where it's safe?"_

The Avatar…

If she came to the city, it could ruin their plans. It was true that she was their goal—one of their main goals, and perhaps even their final goal—but they weren't yet strong enough to take on the master of all four elements. Not at this stage—not yet.

It looked like Tenzin and the White Lotus would have to be sent a warning—a very clear, unambiguous warning.

"We have need of our prisoner," a chilling voice said.

"The warning to the Avatar will be written in his blood."

* * *

"Master Zhao… you wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Korra. Would you care to join me for a hot cup of tea?"

Immediately, Korra was on edge. When Zhao invited her to have tea, it was either because he had something arduous and boring to discuss with her, or because he had something utterly fascinating to discuss with her.

There was no middle ground, and therefore there was no way to prepare for what was to come.

It didn't occur to Korra, of course, to decline the offer. One didn't simply decline an offer to have tea with one's own firebending master.

So, she bowed, courteously, and entered the room in which Zhao had lived for the past five years of his life.

The building the room was located in was at the edge of the area that the Order of the White Lotus had secured for the Avatar and her training. As such, in the most peaceful of times, the building was positively crawling with sentries.

In these times, one couldn't walk in the halls for more than a few moments without running into a squad of them.

Still, such a near-paranoid level of security didn't stop Zhao from making his room his. He had few possessions, Korra knew, but all of them were special in some way—for example, the set of robes encased in a glass display in one corner was Fire Lord Sozin's; for another, the dual swords crossed over the entrance to the room were Fire Lord Zuko's.

There were other things, too—vases, books, bits of obsidian with ancient markings on them—but Korra wasn't interested in these trinkets. She was interested in the man in front of her as he sat down and poured two matching cups of tea.

It was so hot that it was steaming. In such a climate, that luxury ought have been the stuff of dreams—and, in fact, heat beyond the absolute minimum needed to sustain life had been a luxury in the South Pole since the beginning of time.

Now, things were beginning to change. Now, ships traveled to and from a small port several hours' travel from Korra's tribe's grounds, and the men on them brought spark rocks and wood to trade for seal skins, meat, and clothes. Times were changing in the South Pole, albeit at a measured pace, but there was no doubt that they were still several years behind their sister tribe to the far north—but that had always been the case, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Still, there was a small wonder in beholding the pleasant, hot beverage in her hands. The cup Korra was holding was fashioned by a miniscule shop deep in the heart of the Fire Nation, and the tea leaves that had been used to prepare its contents were from a plantation to the east of Ba Sing Se.

The water, of course, was ice cut from the South Pole itself, melted and purified through a small filtration system at another part of what had been Korra's home ever since she had been "discovered".

Yet it was a miracle that she was sitting where she was—on the seventh story of an artistically designed building, warm, safe, secure, in the middle of a blizzard that would have posed a mortal threat to anyone in the area not a generation ago. Apart from that, she was sitting peacefully with a man of the Fire Nation—a person who would have been her enemy for that simple reason had they been sitting there a hundred years before.

It was as if the planets had aligned to see Korra in such a wonderful, peaceful situation.

She took a sip of tea.

How wonderful it tasted.

Zhao seemed to be looking at her, and for a moment, Korra was almost embarrassed. But then, she found herself looking right back at the old man, the white-haired firebending legend she'd spent the past several years with, honing her art to a razor's edge. He knew everything about her—her strengths, her weaknesses, and how she'd attack a given opponent or situation. He also knew her on a personal level, to a degree, since they'd had several teatime conversations recently as Korra's training started to come to a close.

"You've grown," Zhao began. "It's hard to imagine that only a few years ago, your firebending was so… unwashed. But now, you can burn the wings off a fly—without killing it—and in the same breath you can start a forest fire large enough to bring an army to its knees.

"I'm proud of you, Korra," Zhao said. "I truly am. You're one of the most dangerous firebenders in this world, easily, and you've come to be a wonderful young lady as well."

At this point, Korra was all smiles. Compliments from Zhao, generally, were few and far between—it wasn't that he was a gruff or unfriendly person, it was just that he didn't engage in hyperbole, ever. Praise from him, therefore, was sincere and heartfelt, and so the respect and honor he was showing her was almost overwhelming.

And then Korra saw the meager smile on Zhao's face begin to fade.

"You're powerful, Korra," Zhao said. "Almost… too powerful."

"Wait a second," Korra protested. "That doesn't make sense. How can someone be too powerful, Master? I mean—firebending itself is based on will, right? On the determination to accomplish tasks? It's the _element_ of power—that's what you taught me."

She hadn't meant to end on an almost accusatory note, and for a moment, Korra was afraid that she'd insulted Zhao. But Zhao simply took a deep sip of tea and contemplated before replying.

"Fire is the element of power," he confirmed. "And its basis is the will to accomplish tasks. But that's not what I was talking about."

He paused for the slightest second. It was almost as if he didn't want to continue, or if he wasn't sure that he ought to. But the expression on Korra's face was unambiguous—she had to understand what he was getting at.

"During the Hundred Year War," Zhao began, "what won battles was indeed power. In those days, might… didn't make right, but might made fact, made _history_, and it was by understanding this fact that one nation was able to wage war on _three others_ at the same time. Power—in the hands of the Fire Lord, and his family, was able to enforce a hierarchy that forced thousands of Fire Nation soldiers to fight and to die in distant lands, a thousand miles from home, for nothing that would have benefited any of them at all."

He sighed and shook his head, and then he continued.

"Korra," Zhao said, "I don't know if anyone's told you this before, but you're powerful. You're very, _very_ powerful. I don't know if you're the most powerful Avatar that has ever existed," he admitted, "but even at your age, even without airbending, you're orders of magnitude more powerful than your past life.

"And if your past life had been as powerful as you are, the war would have been much shorter. It would have ended before Sozin's Comet came—it may even have ended before the Day of the Black Sun. And if the war had ended sooner, the atrocities committed by the Fire Nation with the aid of Sozin's Comet would never have happened. There would be thousands of people in the western part of the Earth Kingdom today, instead of ghosts and mass graves."

Korra shivered unpleasantly at the mention of those terrible events. She didn't know much about them, but she'd read a few books over the years, and one of them had had pictures. And until that day, Korra had never, ever been able to rid her mind of the image of a miniscule skeleton clutched in the arms of its mother, charred into lifelessness for all eternity. It would be burned into her consciousness, and the consciousnesses of all of her future lives.

It was a moment before Zhao continued.

"Today, things are different," he said. "Today, power doesn't win battles, let alone wars. Tell me about the capture of Omashu by the Fire Nation, Korra—tell me what King Bumi did."

"He… used neutral jing," Korra said uncertainly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world—and it was. Even here, way out here in the South Pole, children were taught how King Bumi had given the Fire Nation the illusion of victory in order to claim true victory in the end.

"It was a brilliant military strategy," Korra said. "He didn't attack _or_ defend—he let the Fire Nation take over his city so that he could strike them later on his own turf, on his own terms."

Now, she felt more certain of the answer she was giving—Zhao was nodding slowly, indicating for her to continue.

"He gave the appearance of defeat and then bided his time, waiting for the opportunity to attack—and when it came, he took it," Korra said. She punched one open hand for emphasis.

"The eclipse lasted eight minutes, but he had taken his city back in four."

Zhao was still nodding, but Korra wasn't sure what more to say. She wasn't sure what more there was to say about this topic—and then she saw that her firebending master wasn't just nodding—he was also grinning sadly.

"So _that's_ the story they tell you in school these days," he said. "I might have known…

"Yes, it's true that on one level, King Bumi did nothing," Zhao said. "It's true that at first, he neither attacked nor defended. But he allowed himself to be captured—he _intended_ to be captured. Think about it—it was his city, and he'd been a popular, wise, beloved King for decades when the Fire Nation came to call. He could have hidden—he would have had friends, supporters—but he didn't hide, did he? He all but threw himself into the hands of his enemies. Now why would he do that, Korra? Can you guess?"

"To… make them think that they'd won?"

Zhao nodded.

"Not just that," he said. "He wanted the Fire Nation to be _convinced_ of its victory. By letting Fire Nation forces capture him—the King of Omashu—he gave their proud, arrogant leaders reason to believe that the battle was over and done and to sit back on their laurels. He gave their soldiers reason to become lazy and derelict in their duties, and abusive towards the citizens of 'New Ozai'."

Zhao grinned at the expression on Korra's face.

"Yes, Korra—he _wanted_ Fire Nation troops to mistreat his people—and here's why.

"King Bumi wanted his people to hate the Fire Nation and anyone affiliated with it."

"But wait," Korra interjected. "They already hated the Fire Nation—they already knew the world was at war with the Fire Nation, and for good reason—they knew about Ba Sing Se, they knew about raiders attacking Earth Kingdom villages—"

"They did," Zhao said. "They knew these things, but they did not _feel_ them. It's one thing to read about a war in a newspaper, it's another thing to be insulted, to be ground into the dust by the boot of a foreign soldier. In other words, before the occupation, the people of Omashu may have hated the Fire Nation on an intellectual level—maybe—but after the occupation, the people of Omashu _hated_ the Fire Nation with every fiber of their being, from the poorest beggar to the wealthiest landlord."

"So," Korra said, "King Bumi was… trying to get his people to hate the Fire Nation… but why didn't he just tell them what the Fire Nation would do to them, instead of letting it happen? Why didn't he meet the enemy at the gates of his city, instead of allowing them inside to have their way for weeks on end?"

Zhao paused before speaking, looking directly into Korra's eyes. He knew that she was smart enough to answer that question for herself.

"He… if he had just _told_ them about what the Fire Nation was capable of, they may have hated the Fire Nation. But they wouldn't have _hated_ the Fire Nation."

"Exactly," Zhao said.

"Without experiencing the brutality of Fire Nation occupation for himself, a poor worker would have needed a _lot_ of convincing in order to take up arms against them. On the other hand, after seeing and _feeling_ the Fire Nation for themselves, the people of Omashu _universally_ grew to hate the Fire Nation—to the point of action, to the point of taking up arms against them, to the point that they were willing to sacrifice themselves to see the Fire Nation defeated."

"So, King Bumi _manipulated_ his people," Korra said. "Is that what happened?"

Zhao began to shake his head. He paused, then—and then he shrugged.

"That's not how I think about it," he said. "He didn't lie, didn't shade or conceal the truth, didn't use cheap rhetoric—he showed his people the truth in the most obvious manner, and that's that. No newspaper, no speech can display truth like one's own senses can, alas," Zhao said. "Perhaps telegrams can display truth in a manner convincing enough to engender action—only time will tell," he continued. "But I am convinced that the best way to convince someone of truth is to _show_ it to them—to their own eyes so that they must confront it, as well as whatever ramifications might follow it."

Their tea cups were empty. Zhao moved to refill them, but Korra beat him to it. Moments later, master and student sat facing one another with steaming cups of tea in their hands again.

"So, King Bumi convinced his people of the depravity of the Fire Nation by allowing them to experience it firsthand," Zhao said, "but that's not all. There's no doubt that the people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong, but like all people, they have needs—simple, physical needs: food, water, and shelter. Beyond that, they also need safety and rule of law. These are the foundations of civilization—of society itself—and until the Fire Nation came, it was King Bumi and his government which provided these things. Perhaps not perfectly," Zhao admitted, "but in a good measure regardless. But after Omashu was captured…"

"… it became the Fire Nation's responsibility to provide them?" Korra answered with a question—and Zhao nodded enthusiastically.

"Exactly," Zhao said. "It relieved King Bumi of his responsibilities, and it became the Fire Nation's responsibility to act as the government. In other words, when people went without food or water, the Fire Nation was blamed, and when Fire Nation soldiers terrorized the people of Omashu, that was the final nail in the coffin," Zhao said. "_That_ was how the people of Omashu came to hate the Fire Nation with indomitable passion."

"So, people began to join the resistance?" Korra asked. "They started to organize and do little raids against Fire Nation patrols and buildings?"

"Some of them," Zhao agreed. "But what allowed people to participate in resistance activities? How could they continue to feed themselves and their families if they were secretly freedom fighters? How could they trust their neighbors to stay silent about their nighttime activities?"

He looked to Korra to answer, but she had no words for him.

"It was because the Fire Nation was so unpopular in Omashu that _no one_ would betray a resistance fighter to the Fire Nation, not for all the bags of grain in the world. People grew to hate the Fire Nation so much that even those who weren't willing to fight were willing to give their support to the cause in other ways—they were willing to donate food, or money, or their homes; they would act as medics, they would spy, they would eavesdrop, they would do any little thing they could to play their role in the expulsion of the Fire Nation from their home.

"King Bumi's strategy worked so well that within a fortnight of its capture, not a single Fire Nation sympathizer existed in Omashu. They simply ceased to exist, because the Fire Nation couldn't provide anything—not food, not water, not safety, not shelter, and certainly not rule of law. They _failed_ to fulfill their responsibilities as a government—in no small part because of organized resistance activities by the remnants of Omashu's police and military force—and when their soldiers insulted and beat the proud, strong people of the Earth Kingdom, those people started to plot for their demise.

"The Fire Nation quickly found itself entrenched in a state of constant hyper-vigilance to avoid simply collapsing to the onslaught of constant resistance raids," Zhao said. "Every atrocity they committed was paid back, somehow, and rebels were able to sleep comfortably at night while the Fire Nation was forced to weather attacks at all hours, taking up resources and morale.

"Many Fire Nation troops simply stopped caring. Some deserted. Those who continued to do their duties quickly became paranoid or monsters. And when the Day of Black Sun came, well," Zhao scoffed.

"Let me just say that I am surprised that it took King Bumi and the organized resistance four minutes to defeat the Fire Nation. It should have been done in half that time."

Korra hadn't had a sip of her tea since she had refilled her cup. So _this_ was the true story of how King Bumi eventually achieved a decisive military victory at Omashu—it was a lot more complicated than simply using neutral jing. It was fantastic that he'd been able to orchestrate events, or at least plan for them, at such a high level.

The idea of actually using a government's responsibility against it… that was something that Korra had never, ever thought of before. The whole idea was… incredible.

"But things are different now," Zhao said contemplatively, interrupting her thoughts. "Things are very different now. Now, those who provide governance take on not only the responsibility to provide food, water, shelter, safety, and rule of law—now, people expect all those things, and they expect power, infrastructure, and a stable economy. The responsibilities of a government have grown exponentially," he said darkly, "and the establishment that has to take on those responsibilities has a much greater burden than it has ever had in the past.

"If the people of Omashu had expected power, back then, and infrastructure, and a stable economy… then King Bumi wouldn't have had to lift a finger, not even on the Day of Black Sun," Zhao said. "The people would have done all the work for him. The benders would have used earth and the nonbenders would have used torches and pitchforks.

"That's because the people would have expected so much," Zhao said, "and to prevent the Fire Nation from providing that, the resistance would have had to do so little. It's one thing to provide food, water, shelter, safety, and rule of law, but to provide power and infrastructure and a stable economy is something else entirely. All it takes is one sabotaged powerplant or one financial crisis to get people to panic," Zhao said. "And when that happens, woe betide those in power, because the people will be out in the streets, calling for their blood. "

Zhao took a sip of tea. He thought for a moment before speaking.

"Power alone doesn't win battles, Avatar Korra, and it certainly doesn't win wars. It didn't a hundred years ago, and it certainly doesn't today. In fact, I fear that your training has been misguided and obsolete from the start," Zhao said. "I was told to teach you firebending—true, traditional, proven firebending—and so I did.

"I have taught the most powerful, destructive techniques—I've taught you how to command enough power to bring entire armies to the ground—but why? Why on Earth should you spend five years practicing techniques that are easy—techniques that require no finesse, little control, and techniques that you'll probably never need to use, when there are so many more useful things for you to learn?

"Why should you learn to fight against armies, when the modern enemies of civilization aren't soldiers wearing neat little uniforms so that you know who they are?

"I and your other masters have taught you the most powerful and destructive combat arts," Zhao said, "but apart from not being spiritual, you have almost no restraint. Korra, the flames you used today were _yellow_," Zhao said. "I know it and you know it."

He fell silent.

At this point, Korra was uncomfortable. Zhao had begun the conversation by praising her, but now he was scolding her—insulting her, even—and the flames she'd used in today's sparring match had never been hotter than orange!… except, well, maybe at one or two points…

"You don't know the suffering of war," Zhao said, "and that's alright, because the peril of your time isn't war—not the kind of war I'm talking about, anyway. But you don't know the suffering of crime, either, or the cold, paralyzing fear that comes when you see needless, endless death, depravity and destruction.

"You'll learn it, though," Zhao said. "And you'll learn it _hard_. When you look into the eyes of a man you've hurt—a man you've _badly_ hurt when there are no squads of healers close at hand—or when you come too late to save what has become a dead body on the ground—_then_ you'll learn the meaning of suffering.

"Until then… you said you didn't mess around in your match today, Korra. But when you understand the meaning of suffering, you'll understand what it really means to not mess around. You'll understand what true power is—it's not firebending, or waterbending, or earthbending, or even the ability to use all of them at once to overwhelm your enemy. You'll understand, as Aang did so well, that the greatest power in this world is to defeat your enemy without killing him—without tearing your soul apart and inviting the hatred, fear, and distrust that the people of this world so rightly show towards killers—even if they're righteous killers, police, soldiers, or the Avatar herself."

At last Korra found her voice.

"So… you think I've been sheltered?" she asked. "You think… because I haven't seen suffering, I don't understand that I shouldn't kill my enemies?"

"You might say in words that you understand why you shouldn't kill your enemies," Zhao allowed, "but you don't truly understand it, because you don't know the mark of the Black God."

Korra's tea was cold in its cup, which, in turn, was long forgotten and stagnant in her hand. She only became aware of it again because she had started to tilt it, spilling its contents onto her hand.

A little waterbending fixed that and allowed her to think coherently once again. But no coherent thoughts could make sense of what Zhao had just said.

"_The Black God?"_ Korra thought. _"What on Earth is that?"_

She scoured her memory, briefly, but after only a moment she was certain that she'd never heard of the "Black God". She'd never even heard of anything _like_ a "Black God" before, whatever it was.

Apart from that, Zhao was starting to creep her out a little bit. It was true that he was her firebending master, and that she trusted him with her life, but just then… just then she was starting to get uncomfortable.

Korra started to stand, thinking of the proper words that would let her leave without being too disrespectful, but Zhao held up a hand before a breath could leave her lips.

"You don't understand a word of what I'm saying," he said, "but you will. And… I have a gift for you, Korra."

"A gift?" she prompted, feeling more suspicious than interested.

Zhao nodded. "It's been in my family for generations, and for generations, we've found it useful. Life-saving, even."

Now, Korra was starting to become more interested and excited, but she was still suspicious and wary of the old man before her. She thought she'd known him so well, but in just the past several minutes he'd said so much and now she wasn't sure that she knew him at all.

And now he was on his feet and making his way to a closet in the back of his room. He opened its doors and, after a moment, pulled out a brief black garment that he held out in his hands.

It was a vest of some sort. It was made of animal hide and dyed black, and as Korra looked closely, she could see that it was not so very different from the seal skins her people used to make coats.

But it was different, though, she could see that in an instant. It seemed… scaled, almost, but it flowed far too smoothly for it to be reptilian hide. And when Zhao handed it to her, she could tell that…

"…It's as light as a feather," Korra said uncertainly.

That was an exaggeration, but only slightly. It was lighter than an undershirt, yet it was thick and had insulative properties; she could tell that much just by manipulating it in her hands for a moment.

"It is," Zhao said. "But that's not all."

Korra looked at him quizzically for a moment as he took the vest from her, held it out in one hand—

And then applied to it a flame so hot that Korra had to close her eyes and turn away.

"What are you doing?!" Korra demanded. "Why are you ruining your… vest…"

Zhao stopped firebending. He held the material out for Korra to see that it wasn't burned, wasn't even singed, and, in fact, was still cool to the touch.

"It's not damaged at all," Zhao said, handing the vest back to Korra, so that she could turn it over in her hands and see for herself that he wasn't lying. "No conventional fire can damage it; at least, as far as I'm aware. Lightning will pierce it, but the protection it can offer will make an otherwise fatal wound survivable.

"And it's not just resistant to fire," Zhao went on. "It'll offer protection against rock shards, icicles, and it'll disperse blasts of air as well. It can absorb a punch or a kick, and can render pressure point striking almost useless. It'll make arrows snap and fall apart into pieces, and even the sharpest blade will have a very hard time doing more than scratching it."

Korra was speechless for a moment. She wouldn't have believed what Zhao was telling her, but after thoroughly searching the vest for signs of damage without any success at all, she was forced to believe that he was telling her the truth.

"What… is it?" she asked slowly.

Zhao grinned.

"You'll find out, Avatar Korra, when it's time. Until then, I want you to wear this vest," he said. "Under your clothes, of course—don't display it openly. When the time is right, your friends, and your enemies, will find out about it."

Korra looked at Zhao uncertainly. He… was a very, very strange man. He was the most powerful firebender she'd ever heard of—probably the most powerful firebender alive—but she'd always felt that he was hiding something—from her, and from the world.

Apart from that, he looked a little strange.

It wasn't that he was unattractive (although, to be frank, Korra's tastes led her to be more interested in people a _lot_ younger than Zhao), but he didn't quite look like a pure member of the Fire Nation's main ethnic group. Something about him was reminiscent of the features common to the Northern Water Tribe—kind of, sort of.

Korra wasn't sure what it was. But she sensed, somehow, that it had something to do with the vest in her hands, and why he tended to be so mysterious and, well, odd.

But he had still done a lot for her.

"Thank you, Master," Korra said after a long moment. "For… everything."

Zhao smiled at her. He'd dedicated his life to her for the past five years, and before that, he'd dedicated his life to teaching others the art of firebending, and some other things.

In his life, he'd had friends, and for some time, he'd had a family, too, though everyone he'd once loved had now been dead for many years. He'd seen the world, he'd worked, he'd fought for what he'd believed in, and now that he'd given the Avatar something that might actually help her in the years to come… there wasn't much left for him to do.

"It was an honor to serve you, Avatar Korra," he said.

He paused.

"The others already know what my plans are, and my possessions will be sent to museums around this world. So, please don't worry about me at all, because after tonight, you won't see me again."

Korra blinked. What did he mean—

"It's time for me to embrace the Black God _fully_."

He shut his eyes and rested his hands, one atop the other, as if he was preparing to meditate.

"Don't be frightened."

With that, Zhao used firebending again, but this time, his target was himself… and this time, his target _did_ react to the actions being performed on it.

Flames consumed him. They ate his clothes, first, and then they started to savor his skin, his flesh—and then, when most of their feast was done, they ate his bones, too, leaving nothing more than a small pile of fine white ash on the floor where Zhao had once stood.

Korra watched the procedure without blinking. And although she didn't know it at the time, what she'd seen, just then, was the mark of the Black God.

It was the first time she'd seen the mark of the Black God.

But it would not be the last.

* * *

The first card had been fire.

The second card had been an arrow.

And the third card had been a crowd of silhouettes.

It had taken the masked one, the one who had selected the cards, just a few moments of meditation and reflection to interpret what they meant.

And, so, he had gone to the room where the prisoner was being held. He had taken a torch with him and that was all—the other remained in the main room, monitoring telegraph activity and sharing notes on what the more ambiguous coded messages they'd intercepted might mean.

They heard the begging.

And then they heard the screams.

And then they heard silence.

And then four of them went to where their leader had finished his task and took their prisoner away.

They took him into a waiting car, loaded him into the trunk, and set off for another part of Republic City.

And then, in the middle of the night, they took him out and placed him in the middle of the road, right where they had found him…

At the doorsteps of the police station he'd once commanded.

* * *

(That's a wrap for this chapter… I hope you enjoyed it. I think I've introduced a number of important themes for the story as I have it planned, so the next chapter will involve a bit more plot movement. I don't want to say too much, but Tenzin's visit to the South Pole will be covered.

Anyway, review and favorite as necessary, because the positive reception this story gets is directly proportional to how enthusiastic I will be to work on it.)


	3. Chapter II

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

Followers of the Black God

Chapter Two

* * *

International travel, in the days before the Hundred Year War, had not exactly been a common practice. For example, the people of the Northern and Southern Water Tribes tended to keep to themselves, and while the people of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom certainly traded extensively with one another, comparatively few of their citizens ever crossed borders.

The Air Nomads were the sole exception, and due to their worldwide respect and renown as peaceful monks, no one ever had reason to worry about them.

So, in those days, there really hadn't been any border controls. There were border police, to be sure, and those who moved from one nation to another were generally asked for their names and the purpose of their visits, but that was all.

But times had changed.

There were still open borders in that citizens of all nations enjoyed the right to freely travel and work in all other nations. But now, a name and a purpose weren't enough to enter the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation, let alone Republic City itself. Now, one had to have papers—identification papers and travel papers and more—just to leave their own countries. Bureaucracy and government bungling meant that if you wanted to travel to see a relative for his birthday, for example, you had better get the ball rolling several months beforehand.

Or else, of course, you could pay a bribe. And everyone paid bribes to lazy Fire Nation or Earth Kingdom border guards.

On the other hand, immigration to and from Republic City was not taken lightly. The people in charge of it took their jobs very seriously, and those seeking to join the elite metalbending legions that guarded safety and rule of law in the multinational city were thoroughly vetted to ensure that they could not be bribed.

One didn't simply _walk_ into Republic City.

And one didn't simply leave it, either.

All entries and exits from Republic City had to be cleared with immigration officials several days before they were to be done, at least. No reason was given to the public for this policy, but in time, people learned to live with it and get along with their lives. It was a pain, at times, but life went on.

Of course, exceptions could be made—if one was wealthy and powerful enough.

And Tenzin, heir to the legacy of the Air Nomads and all of their possessions,! and a member of the United Republic Council, was a very wealthy and _very_ powerful man.

He'd left just before dawn, before the city started to wake up, and before certain things were discovered. Had he delayed for even fifteen minutes, his plans may have changed entirely and he might not have left Republic City at all—but now, it looked like he'd have to receive news of what had happened to a missing police chief by telegram.

After all, he was unreachable when he was traveling—by design.

* * *

Tenzin could have traveled in comfort and stopped every night in one of the many Earth Kingdom towns that dotted the countryside between Republic City and the South Pole. He and his family could easily have afforded to stay in the most expensive, exclusive inns, and they could have eaten like kings for every meal.

That might have been enjoyable, Tenzin admitted to himself, but he was an airbender—the _last_ true airbender, in fact. His children were skilled in their arts, certainly, but he was the only person on the planet who could seriously think of himself as an airbending master. It was his destiny to live a relatively humble, spiritual life, and so he relished the chance to escape from the luxury and business of living in his heavily-guarded home on Air Temple Island.

The first few days of the journey passed enjoyably. The children found themselves appreciating the fresh air and the chance to shout as loud as they wanted and run as fast as they could during the several stops that were made every day, and Pema was able to relax properly for a change.

It was actually the first trip they'd made to the South Pole in many years. Come to think of it, the children had never been there at all, not even to meet their grandmother—not once.

Life was busy. Tenzin had the administration of Republic City to worry about and Katara had the training and safety of the Avatar to worry about.

But considering all the recent events in the city, Tenzin knew he had to take the plunge soon before he lost the chance to see his mother again… forever.

And, so, when the opportunity to drop everything and leave came, Tenzin took it without hesitating.

The first few days of the journey had passed enjoyably. But the last few… started to go downhill.

Tenzin could be a stern man, but he was not a cruel disciplinarian, certainly not to his own children. That was why when his youngest son decided to use him as a living jungle gym and a gnawing post, he didn't do… anything at all, really, except for pray that nothing would delay him for the remainder of the journey.

Fortunately, there were no obstacles in the path the only airbending family in the world took to the South Pole.

Tenzin announced his approach with a visible blast of air to his zenith. The Order of the White Lotus, of course, would have picked up his approach as soon as he got anywhere near them, but he didn't want them to worry unduly or to start attacking his family should they happen to be on a hair-trigger for some reason.

It was lucky that he had done that.

Hidden sentry posts had picked him up before he was several miles away and their alerts had been relayed back home at top speed. His air blast had calmed things down a little bit, but _no one_ wanted to take chances where the Avatar was concerned.

By the time he was closing in on the training facility, several dozen White Lotus guards had been assembled. Korra had been ushered towards a secret exit from the base where a high-speed ship awaited to take her away should things really go downhill.

In the end, of course, everyone was able to breathe a collective sigh of relief when Tenzin landed without incident and was identified by his mother.

She greeted him with an embrace and took great pleasure in seeing her grandchildren in person for, in fact, the first time. Tenzin was happy that the journey was over and that his mother was in good health, and yet the presence of more guards than was usual did not escape his notice.

He asked his mother why the Order of the White Lotus was so, well, paranoid.

Katara had looked gravely into his eyes and asked for the children to be taken away.

And then she related the tale to her son.

* * *

Jin Li was not a young man anymore, but, at the age of thirty five, he still had most of his life before him. He was a good man, an honest man, with three children and a loving wife, and, like his colleagues, he took his work seriously.

He was, after all, a police officer—a low ranking patrol officer, perhaps, but a police officer nonetheless, and he took that seriously, too.

He kept his uniform pristine and pressed no matter how humid it was outside, for example, and he never did anything to compromise the ethics of his organization. He treated all citizens of Republic City with respect and dignity and protected them _all_ from crime—all of them.

Even, well, _them_.

Li didn't have any friends in that community, of course, and he'd never really gotten to know any of them on a personal level either, but that was just… just _because_. It wasn't because he was prejudiced or because he thought that they were all bad people or something—but, well, it was complicated.

Still, he treated them well. When he saw familiar faces, he waved at them and they waved back, and sometimes he ate lunch in their restaurants, even though he hadn't quite acquired a taste for most of their food yet. Apart from that, he responded to their concerns quickly and professionally and he strove with every fiber of his being to improve the relations law enforcement had with them.

It was hard, though—especially since his supervisor was viciously racist against them.

Quan So—Li's chief—never had a nice thing to say about that community or its people. He yelled at them for the slightest infraction, even if it was imagined, arrested them for resisting arrest, and much, much more.

He beat suspected criminals, too—if they were from that community—and on more than one occasion, his victim had turned out to not only be not guilty but factually innocent.

Perhaps it had something to do with his hobbies—alcohol and gambling—and his family life—he didn't have a family. Perhaps that was why Quan So was such a volatile, unprofessional man.

But what could you do?

Li had tried to quietly report So to central authorities several times with no results. He had tried talking to So, but that hadn't worked, so he took it upon himself to try to improve relations with that community, even if it was only in the smallest way—even if they were, well, a bit weird.

Still, Li couldn't lie to himself—he had breathed a sigh of relief with Quan So had announced that he was going on vacation. That meant that, so far, there had been two weeks without a needless arrest, senseless beating, or callous insult directed at some member of the community or the community at large.

And already, results from Li's friendliness were starting to show. People seemed more comfortable around him now. In the past, he could essentially shut a bustling street down just by walking down it, but now, people were somewhat willing to believe that he wasn't about to snap and start arresting, or beating, all of them.

He wondered what So was doing—where he was going. In all the fifteen years Li had worked for the police, he'd never known Quan So to take a break or vacation of any sort, not to see family or friends or even to simply relax, so it was a bit odd for the older man to suddenly submit a last-minute notice that he would not be showing up for work for some time.

Li didn't worry about it too much, though. Because with Quan So's sudden disappearance, it had fallen to _him_ to act as the police chief.

Five other men were his subordinates, now, and while none of them were quite as cruel as Quan So, some of them had needed, well, helpful little pointers to keep them from acting badly towards Republic City's most unfamiliar citizens. With his new power, Li had "persuaded" them to join him for meals in a few of that community's restaurants—and, surprisingly, it had turned out that _he_ was least fond of their food.

The rest of the officers had found themselves instantly in love with the exotic appetizers and curries, so delicately spiced and flavored with aromatics. Their hearty stews and rice dishes were immediate hits as well, and these days, the whole police department in that area ate lunch exclusively in that particular community. Earth Kingdom food, Fire Nation food, and the lesser known Northern Water Tribe food was all well and good, of course, but the food of this community was quite a pleasure to behold.

The officers tipped well. And, in time, while they hadn't exactly made friends with any members of that community, they had… made _acquaintances_ out of some of them.

All in all, Jin Li was proud of what he'd been able to accomplish in two weeks. And all he hoped was that when Quan So returned—whenever he returned—he wouldn't reverse everything within a day or two.

Still, Li planned to make the most of things while he was still in charge. It was true that he had to go to work at dawn and couldn't come home until just before dinner, but that was the responsibility of a leader—and, in fact, since he'd started acting as the police chief, crime had dropped rather suddenly in town, and that was because Li went after all criminals, even those who targeted _that_ community. And when the criminals were from that community, he treated them sternly but fairly and trusted the courts to deal out justice instead of dealing it out himself with a baton or the heel of his boot.

Things were going well. Things were going so well that, in fact, Li found himself hoping that Quan So just… well, that he never returned at all.

These were the thoughts that were going through his mind when he walked to his police station. It was, just then, early in the morning, so early in the morning that no one else was out, and it appeared that some sort of large package had been delivered to the station—and that was odd. Who would have delivered something so large at such an odd hour? And what was it?

Jin Li walked a little closer.

Then he saw what the "package" was.

For a full ten seconds, he had stood perfectly still.

Then he had turned, used a set of keys to open the police station, and then he had telegraphed for backup.

Quan So, it seemed, had returned.

* * *

"He did well by calling his superiors," Tenzin said. "What happened next?"

Pema was resting in a room on a lower level in that building. She was nearing the end of her pregnancy, and, as such, she needed as much rest as she could be convinced to take. The children were outside, building snowmen and playing with each other, all under the watchful eyes of the White Lotus, the same dedicated group who guarded them at their home on Air Temple Island.

Tenzin and his mother were in room by themselves, one that looked, somehow, like it had recently been emptied of its previous contents but not yet filled with new contents.

For seemingly no reason at all, Tenzin found himself wondering about Zhao, the legendary firebending instructor who had taken it upon himself to train the Avatar. He had met the man years ago and had exchanged telegrams with him several times in the more recent past—but where was Zhao, he wondered.

Katara was sipping a cup of tea that had been brought of them. Tenzin was about to voice this new question, but she began to answer his previous one just before he could.

"The police realized that this wasn't an ordinary crime," she said. "They took custody of the body, but turned it and the investigation over to the CIB."

Tenzin's eyes narrowed. That was… an extreme action, especially for the police. But perhaps it was the right one.

"And since then…?" he prompted.

Katara shook her head.

"That's all we've heard. The CIB is handling things, and you know how they are."

"We'll see about that," Tenzin said sternly. "I'm a member of the United Republic Council, and, as such, it is my right to demand information from them."

"In person, maybe," Katara said, just before Tenzin could stand up and order for a telegram to be sent to Republic City immediately.

"But you came here because you fear that telegraph lines may be compromised. They'll use the same excuse to keep you out of the loop until you're back in Republic City."

"Wonderful," Tenzin said.

Then, he sighed.

The CIB, the Central Intelligence Bureau, was the secret police organization in Republic City. Among other things, it was their responsibility to monitor serious threats to rule of law and the governing body—in other words, the police went after criminals and the CIB went after those who were _more_ than criminals. The police were an independent body of government in many ways, but the CIB worked directly under the United Republic Council and ensured that that body was truly in charge of Republic City.

They'd borrowed heavily from the tactics and methodology of the Dai Li, the legendary secret service that protected Ba Sing Se's government… and kept its citizens in a constant veil of surveillance and lies.

The CIB also controlled what sort of speech and print was and was not allowed in Republic City. That gave Tenzin pause—perhaps they'd borrowed just a little too heavily from the history books about the Dai Li when they'd thought up the CIB—but on the other hand, there was no person similar to Long Feng in the CIB and there never would be.

The head of the CIB, after all, was the chairman of the United Republic Council. And, for all the misgivings Tenzin had about Tarrlok, there was no doubt that never he let the CIB set a _toe_ out of line.

For that reason, Tenzin accepted the CIB's increasing power and funding, albeit grudgingly. He also accepted that, from time to time, it might seem that the CIB was against him. The CIB was neutral, completely neutral, and followed the chairman of the United Republic Council—and so if the chairman was against him, the CIB was—but by its nature and not by its intent.

He'd have to have a few choice words with CIB higher-ups when he got back to Republic City, though.

"Do they have any suspects yet? Has anyone taken responsibility for the attack?" Tenzin asked, though he felt that he already knew the answer to both questions.

"I believe so," Katara answered. "Quan So's burns—the ones on his face—appeared to be handprints."

"The Mark of the Black God," Tenzin said expectantly. "So, it was the Followers."

Katara nodded.

"No one else we're aware of has a motive to do such a thing to a police chief, and no one else stands to gain anything by framing the Followers of the Black God."

"Have we made any arrests?" Tenzin asked. "Do we have any particular suspects, or… witnesses, or anything?"

Katara shook her head.

Tenzin took another long sip of tea. His mother refilled his cup without looking at him.

"The CIB won't say anything else because they're not convinced that our telegram lines are secure," she said, "but I'm certain that if they'd made any progress in this case, we'd find out about it. As of now… I don't believe we're even sure if the Followers of the Black God are one group, or several groups… or just some sort of rebel movement."

Tenzin found himself staring at his mother. She knew war—she'd lived through it and experienced it, and she'd brought it to the doorstep of her enemy with the man who later became her husband—his father, the Avatar. Moreover, in those days, _she_ had been the rebel, the dynamic, elite guerilla group that had struck at the Fire Nation with a thousand paper cuts from a thousand angles. If there was anyone who could recognize the work of a guerilla force, it was her.

"What do you think it is?" Tenzin asked.

"I'm not sure," Katara admitted. "Years ago, I would have said that it was several groups with limited ties to each other, but that was because they rarely crossed _that_ line. They rarely killed," she said when Tenzin looked at her quizzically, "and when they did, it was always in impassioned, desperate situations. But now, they apparently plan to kill their targets, and they kill people they've captured.

"I want to believe it's one group that's arisen from several disorganized gangs of thugs," Katara said. "And that's because if what you're facing is an expression of a popular opinion in that community… then you've got a real problem on your hands," she said seriously. "You have a _serious_ problem on your hands."

Tenzin contemplated that for a moment.

"Perhaps Tarrlok has a point when he talks about putting some restrictions on that community," Tenzin said.

"Perhaps," Katara allowed, "but suppose what you're facing isn't backed by the community at large. Nothing is sure to radicalize them more than increased restrictions."

Tenzin didn't respond to that.

"Is the Avatar safe?" he asked after a moment, and, happily, Katara nodded.

"The White Lotus is dedicated and professional," she said. "I don't worry about _Korra_ at all, because she's a thousand miles from Republic City."

The glance she gave her son, then, stung him somewhat.

"Mother, you know about my responsibility to the United Republic of Nations," he said. "I have to be at the center of everything. Imagine if I went into hiding—if I lived here, with you, or in the safety of some distant Air Temple with my family. No one would care about who my father was, or that I'm the only Airbending master in the world. They'd laugh me right out of the Council, and then Tarrlok would have free reign to put as many restrictions on people as he wanted to; no one would stand up to him. So, there are… some risks that I can't avoid."

Katara looked at her son for a moment. As was his custom, he looked back at her stoically, seriously, the only way he'd ever looked at her since he'd been a young teenager.

Sometimes she wondered about him. He seemed so cool and collected, and acted like it too—99.9% of the time. But that .1% of the time… that made her wonder if it was all just an act, and if there was a side of Tenzin he hid so effectively that perhaps even he didn't know that he was hiding it.

Then again, he was a family man now, with children and a pregnant wife. He would never, ever put them in danger, not unless there really was no other way.

"The United Nation of Republics was the brainchild of your father and Fire Lord Zuko," Katara said after a moment. "If it fails, then the idea that people from all nations can live together peacefully—among one another, not at a distance—fails. Your responsibilities… are necessary, and require you to stay in Republic City," she said gravely, before sighing.

"But that doesn't mean that you can't send messages to your old mother from time to time."

Tenzin relaxed imperceptibly.

"I'll keep in better touch in the future, Mother. I promise. But for now—where is Korra?"

"I'm not sure," Katara admitted, "but I can guess."

* * *

Being the Avatar got Korra access to the greatest trainers in the world. She had been trained not just in three of the four bending arts, but also in unarmed combat, and some forms of combat with the various sorts of blades and blunt weapons she was likely to encounter on the battlefield. She had also been taught some chi blocking and pressure point striking.

One thing she hadn't been taught was what the Avatar had to learn alone. And what the Avatar had to learn alone was how to unify command of all four elements—or, in her case, three—and that was because the Avatar was the _only_ one who was able to bend more than one element.

Korra was able to follow up barrages of icicles with barrages of chipped earth. To a lesser degree, she could follow up such a combo with a wave of fire, but this knockout punch, she believed, was largely superfluous. After all, it was very, _very_ hard to conceive of any foe who could take a hailstorm of ice and rock and stand.

Still, she practiced. It never hurt to be prepared for the extreme, and besides, she had nothing else to do with her days but to practice and practice and practice until the most brutal bending techniques she could think of were part of her bones.

For some reason, though, she couldn't push herself that day—not really. She was normally able to tear apart the mats of grass and straw her targets were made out of to pieces without hesitation, but today, she couldn't.

She had just seen the mark of the Black God for the first time, after all, and now her targets weren't _just_ lifeless silhouettes built to be destroyed. Now, they were stand-ins for real, living, breathing human beings.

Still, she got in a good workout. She practiced devastating her targets with waves of fire and ice alike, and she practiced raising huge blocks of earth up from the ground to defend entire legions of friendly forces, if necessary. She was just thinking about calling it quits when she noticed someone approaching.

Immediately, she was all smiles.

"I thought it was just another drill," she said, walking toward the two other figures in the testing arena. "It's been so long since I saw you, Tenzin."

"It's good to see you, Avatar Korra," the tall man said, _almost_ smiling. "I'm glad to see that you've become _much_ more powerful since the last time I was here.

"Your firebending master must have taught you well. Where is he?" Tenzin asked. "I'd like to speak to him."

"He's… gone," Korra said after just a moment of hesitation. "But, uhm, yeah! He taught me really, _really_ well," she answered. "I passed my firebending test with flying colors, which means that I'm ready to start training in airbending right away."

She always had been a down-to-the-point sort of person, Tenzin reflected, and apart from that, there was nothing but innocence and an almost childlike desire to learn on her face. He personally would enjoy nothing more than teaching the Avatar airbending, but on the other hand…

He shared a glance with his mother.

"It's almost time for dinner, Korra," she said. "Won't you join us and the White Lotus elders to discuss… things?"

"Sure," Korra replied immediately. "Just let me feed Naga and change, and then I'll be right there with you."

It was cold outside that day, and for that reason, Korra had elected to wear a heavy coat outside of her clothes. Her usual shirt was so brief that it just barely covered her torso, and if she had worn just that, then Tenzin surely would have seen her late firebending instructor's last gift to her.

As it was, though, he only caught the briefest glimpses of black when she said goodbye to him and his mother and turned to walk away.

He was just seeing things, he told himself, and his past several weeks had been filled with nothing but constant thought about that community, their ways of life, and how they could possibly start to assimilate into Republic City and the United Republic of Nations at large. He was starting to see things where there was nothing, and that was why Tenzin didn't ask Korra, then and there, why on Earth she was wearing a meerazi vest.

* * *

It was rare for Korra to eat with, well, anyone but her parents. Sometimes she would grab a quick meal with the younger White Lotus guards, since they weren't all that much older than she was. More rarely she was invited to eat with the big shots around the South Pole, but apart from that, she only ever ate with her parents, Naga, or all by herself.

For that reason, she spent more than her customary five minutes to prepare for the occasion.

She brushed her hair and wore a rather nice shirt her mother had gotten for her some time ago, when a trade ship from the Fire Nation had had come to call on the nearby (but not too nearby) port her tribe maintained to open them up to the world. After a few moments of contemplation, though, she took the shirt off and wore the strange black vest Zhao had given to her under it and then put it back on.

The shirt she wore over it was rather conservative; it showed very little skin, all things considered, and for that reason her vest was covered completely.

Apart from that, she put two small braids in her hair, in an ancient and rarely-practiced technique that marked her as a daughter of the Southern Water Tribe in every way. A few moments of scrubbing her boots later saw her looking her best, and ready to go.

So, she left her room and made her way toward the nearby building that served as both a center of administration and to house the important members of the whole installation.

As she walked, though, she realized that she hadn't told her parents about her plans for that evening. They'd miss her…

"Hey, Korra—going somewhere special tonight?"

A White Lotus patrol was passing by, and one of its members was someone who Korra had come to think of as a friend. She smiled when she saw him—Jon Li was his name, and he was of Fire Nation stock. He was tall, with dark hair but fair skin, and had the sort of face that was rather pleasant to look on indeed.

Perhaps this was why they had become more than distant acquaintances, which was the professional relationship Korra shared with the rest of the men who lived at the South Pole solely to keep her safe. They talked a few times a week, sometimes ate lunch together, and sometimes they even trained together.

He was a pretty nice guy, and although Korra had never asked, she doubted that he was a day over twenty five years old. So, from time to time, they had sort of bantered with one another, innocently, yet in a manner that made Korra sure that if anyone found out, Jon would find himself banished to… wherever the Order of the White Lotus banished people.

For now, though, Korra needed a favor from him—and she knew he could deliver.

"I'm actually going to have dinner with everyone," she said. "Katara, Tenzin, your boss, everyone."

Jon looked impressed at that.

"Congratulations," he said. "It must be so that you can discuss training you in airbending, right? I mean, you did knock everyone's socks off at your firebending test—I was there, and I'm surprised I still have my eyebrows."

Korra grinned. "Thanks," she said. "Hey—I'm actually running a little late, but I didn't get time to let my parents know I won't be able to make it over for dinner tonight. Could you let them know…?"

"Sure," Jon said, barely giving Korra a chance to practice her puppy eyes. "I just have another half hour before I go off duty. I'll head over and tell them what's up."

"Thanks," Korra said brightly. She then turned to leave, promising to tell Jon all about whatever happened that night later.

After all, they'd have plenty of time to talk in the future. And maybe, in the future, they'd have time to do more than to talk, and they'd have time to be more than somewhat distant friends.

* * *

Katara had made dinner, it seemed, along with Pema and the several individuals responsible for feeding the garrison of White Lotus guards stationed at the South Pole and the rest of those who lived there. As such, everything was delicious and authentic, but on the other hand, everyone seemed strangely reluctant to talk.

OF course, Korra had been congratulated by all parties present for her recent performance. She'd also been complimented on her growth as an increasingly powerful Avatar, and a bright, polite young lady, and similar things.

But no one seemed to want to talk about the elephant in the room. So, Korra brought it up as an earthbender would—by tackling the issue head on.

"So," Korra said, "when am I going to start learning airbending?"

There was a collective moment of silence. Everyone present had known Korra for some time, and for that reason they ought to have been prepared for such a blunt question, but it seemed that for some reason they were hesitant to even think about the issue—even then.

"I'm afraid," Tenzin began slowly, "I… won't be able to stay here for very long. I'll have to return to Republic City… within a few days."

"But… you're supposed to move here," Korra said. "You're supposed to teach me—"

But Tenzin just shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Korra. Your airbending training is going to have to wait."

Korra looked away for a minute.

"So… how long before you can start to teach me?" she asked. "Maybe… next month? Or this summer?"

"It could be much longer than that," he replied.

"I don't understand," Korra said. "Why do we have to wait?"

"I have a responsibility to Republic City… I'm one of its leaders," Tenzin said, "and the situation there is very unstable right now."

"But you also have a responsibility to teach me," Korra protested. "I'm the Avatar—and you're the only airbending master in the world! I'd be happy to find another airbending master, but… you're the only one. We're stuck with each other."

Tenzin just kept shaking his head; he was barely listening to what Korra said. And even the most cursory of glances at the rest of the elders in the room told her that they were in agreement with him.

"No, Korra. I wish there was another way, but—"

"Wait," Korra said. "If you can't stay here, then I'll go back to Republic City with you! It's perfect—right?"

"_Absolutely_ not," the White Lotus leader said suddenly. He had known Korra since she had been officially discovered as the Avatar, all those years ago, and in that time he had neither aged a day nor allowed for anyone to come to know his name. "The city is far too dangerous! Avatar Aang told us to keep his next life _safe_, here in the South Pole, while she mastered the four elements."

"So you've kept me locked up here, like a prisoner, and you'll keep me locked up here so that I can't master all the four elements," Korra said, frustrated. She slumped over in her seat and angrily looked away from everyone present.

"I bet the city isn't even that dangerous."

That comment made another wave of silence roll through the room. But this wasn't a tense, uncomfortable silence—this was an amused silence, and the condescension with which everyone fixed her—even Tenzin—even Katara!—was impossible to bear.

"The city," Tenzin said slowly, "is _very_ dangerous; more so now than ever before. There are gangs," he said. "Gangs who start fires when shopkeepers can't afford to pay exorbitant fees for 'protection'. There are muggers who will beat up women to steal pennies—and there are drug addicts who'll cut your arms off to have a meal.

"There are corrupt police," he said. "Some will demand bribes just to leave you alone or do their jobs; others have ties to gangs and worse. Some won't hesitate to sell a lone child into slavery for life—and then there are the Followers of the Black God. I don't hesitate to say that you'd be better off, Korra, being sold into slavery than captured by those fanatics."

Korra was silent for a moment. Tenzin thought that she was shocked—and understandably so—by his explicit warnings—but he couldn't have expected what she said next.

"Followers… of the Black God?" Korra asked. "Who are they… and what is the Black God?"

Tenzin glanced, briefly, first at his mother and then at the leader of the White Lotus. The former nodded and the latter did as well, albeit much more hesitantly, as if he was saying to himself, "She'll find out sooner or later anyway."

Tenzin paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, and then he started to explain to Korra the nature of the most dangerous force the world had had to contend with since the end of the Hundred Year War.

"They appeared perhaps twenty years ago," Tenzin said, "but at that time, they were more of a legend than anything else. Since then, we believed that they went from being street gangs, or vigilante groups, to being… a single, organized, unified force."

"A vigilante group?" Korra asked.

Tenzin nodded.

"The community they hail from is… disliked in Republic City," he said. "Before the Followers of the Black God emerged, they would be attacked constantly. There were stabbings, arsons, attacks by benders and more. And the police didn't do anything about it, of course," Tenzin said. "In many cases, the police covered up for the crimes… or participated in them themselves. I begged for the council to do something, but in those days, I was still a young man—barely older than you are now. They didn't take me seriously, and for that reason, the CIB never did anything serious about the whole issue.

"And then, they started to fight back," Tenzin said. "They stopped running and hiding, and they started to fight back. They traveled the streets in groups, and any initiation of force was met with resistance. If one of their homes were burned, they 'd riot—in massive groups—and chant to the glory of the Black God.

"This was when the CIB acted," Katara cut in. "They worked with the Metalbending Police to crush the rebellion. Many people from that community were killed—mostly young people—and as a result, the rioting stopped, and crimes against them were dealt with a bit more seriously."

"Not for long, though," Tenzin said. "Within just a few years, the police started to ignore crimes again. At this time, the economy was bad, so the people from their community were blamed, and soon, buildings were being burned and people were being assaulted and stabbed again.

"This time, they knew not to riot," Tenzin said. "They knew not to rebel openly. But they couldn't tolerate crime like this—it was making life unbearable. And, so, when the next generation started to come of age, they… well, we're not sure, exactly, but we believe they started to form gangs, small groups of friends who were tired of taking things lying down. We think that these groups started to fight back."

Katara nodded at this point, as if Tenzin had hit the nail on the head as far as she was concerned.

"They acted as vigilantes," he said. "They attacked corrupt police, gangs, and triads. They also attacked common citizens who acted against them, as well as their friends, associates, and property. And, so, the Metalbending Police started to crack down on them again.

"They were gone within a few years, for the most part," Tenzin said. "But recently, we've seen things that have led us to believe that the Followers of the Black God are back—and this time, they're here to stay.

"Now, they kill people," Tenzin said gravely. "In the past, they'd beat people and set things on fire, but now, they kill people. They torture people—just after I left Republic City, a missing police chief turned up dead, with handprints burned into his face. The Mark of the Black God," he explained.

"There have been other things… rumors, mostly—but we believe that they're a _lot_ more serious now, and that they're more than a vigilante group. We don't know what they are, but we do know that they're not just angry kids or thugs looking for organization anymore. They move as if with direction, and these days, they don't get caught anymore. They just… appear out of thin air, do their work, and then vanish back into their communities."

"But wait," Korra said. "So, they started out as a vigilante group, or movement, or something—but why did they call themselves 'Followers of the Black God'? What _is_ the Black God?"

"Death," Tenzin said simply. "The Black God is a euphemism for death, and the main deity in their religion. Apart from that, they inspired fear by calling themselves 'Followers of Death', and it gave them a chance to practice their own religion without fear."

Korra looked at Tenzin quizzically when he said that.

"In those years," he began slowly, "the CIB had a few… controversial programs to try to assimilate that community into the rest of Republic City. None of them worked, so a few emergency provisions were passed which… made it effectively illegal to practice or preach their religion."

Korra stared. She opened her mouth to say something, but Tenzin spoke first.

"I'm ashamed that I didn't stand up to the Council more," he said, "but as I said, they didn't take me seriously back then, and besides, I had no experience with those people. The chairman of the Council did, though. He understood them, and that was why he had the Council and the government dancing to his tune until just a few years ago."

"How did he understand them?" Korra asked. "And—who exactly _are_ these people?"

"Sarrakans," Tenzin said. "That's what they call themselves. They hail from the North Pole, and so does the chairman of the Council."

"So, they're part of the Northern Water Tribe?" Korra asked. "They're waterbenders?"

Tenzin shook his head. "No," he said, "not at all. _None_ of their people are benders of any kind, and they're certainly not associated with the Northern Water Tribe. They're nomads—that's their lifestyle—and for centuries they've wandered around the North Pole, and parts of the northern Earth Kingdom. They lived near the Northern Air Temple too, and years ago, they also lived near the Western Air Temple."

"But not anymore?" Korra asked. "Why?"

"At the beginning of the Hundred Year War, Sozin had them wiped out," Tenzin answered. "… With Flame Dawn."

Korra gasped when she heard that. Flame Dawn soldiers made up the elite, fanatic groups that guarded the Fire Lord's life. They were also responsible for the worst massacres of the war, from the extermination of the Airbenders to several smaller atrocities committed in the Earth Kingdom over the years. If they were responsible for destroying the "Sarrakans" who lived near the Western Air Temple… then it was very likely that not even a shred of their culture remained.

"So… why don't people in Republic City like Sarrakans?" she asked. "And if the chairman of the council's from the North Pole, just like them, then… why does he hate them so much?"

"Sarrakans have been hated by the Northern Water Tribe as long as they've been around," Tenzin said. "They look different, they have a different culture and religion, and there aren't any benders among them. They're nomadic, so, at times, they probably trespassed onto Northern Water Tribe land, but make no mistake, Korra—there is _no_ sense in the way your northern cousins treat Sarrakans. They barely see them as human beings. For millennia, the Northern Water Tribe has brutalized them—they've waged endless war on them, they've killed them for sport, they've taken them as slaves and worse.

"And they weren't well off in Fire Nation, either," Tenzin said, "but at least there, they had some legal rights and weren't treated all that terribly, not until the start of the Hundred Year War. Some of their culture permeated into Fire Nation culture—at least, to a degree. The Western Air Temple, for example, was built by Sarrakans, and there are many famous buildings in the area that were designed and built by Sarrakans. Even today, those with a drop of Sarrakan blood in their veins find themselves drawn to architecture and other arts—producing clothing, armor, pottery, textiles, furniture, and more.

"Some of them were allowed to marry into the Fire Nation," Tenzin said, "although they had to drop their religion and cultural identity in order to do that. But they taught the Fire Nation many things—their martial art was specifically created to block chi, and was perfected over time thanks to constant battles with the Northern Water Tribe, unfriendly Fire Nation locals, and warring Earth Kingdom hordes. They also taught the Fire Nation archery and the use of blades—the legendary Yuyan Archers, for example, borrow directly from Sarrakan technique, and in many cases are half or _more_ Sarrakan themselves. They're truly an amazing people," Tenzin said, to nods from all present.

"But then why do people in Republic City hate them?" Korra asked. "I mean, the Northern Water Tribe, I can understand, because they've hated them for years—but why do Earth Kingdom people hate them, or Fire Nation people? And what about the people of the United Republic of Nations—people who are Earth Kingdom _and_ Fire Nation? Why do they hate Sarrakans?"

"People of the Fire Nation seem mostly apathetic about Sarrakans," Tenzin shrugged. "The same is true for those who identify as Fire Nation, even if they're of mixed heritage, because they live to the west of Republic City. People of the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water Tribe tend to live to the east of Republic City. So, over time, it seems that the city just learned to hate Sarrakans from the Northern Water Tribe members who came to live there.

"And why not?" Tenzin asked. "These are non-benders with a different culture and a completely different religion. They look different, they have their own language, and they don't like to assimilate or mix with others. They have different beliefs and since they were poor when they came to the city, some of them probably turned to crime."

For a moment, there was silence. No one was finished eating and over the past several moments, the food had gotten cold, but just then, no one cared. No one was really hungry.

"So you see, Avatar Korra, that Republic City really is too dangerous," the leader of the White Lotus said. "You're not fully trained yet, and you're not prepared to deal with the situation there at all. Tenzin must return to Republic City," he said, "but for your own safety, you have to stay here, where it's safe."

"B-but the Avatar isn't supposed to be safe," Korra protested. "Look, I understand how dangerous Republic City is, but this whole situation is the kind of thing I'm _supposed_ to solve. I'm the Avatar—I'm supposed to bring balance to the world, not hide from it!"

For a moment, Korra tried to make eye contact with each of the room's occupants. She succeeded in Katara's case, but in the rest, she was unsuccessful.

"I'm sorry, Korra," Tenzin said. "Until we have control of the situation again, you'll have to stay here."

"_You've had years to try to get control of the situation, and look at what's happened,"_ Korra wanted to say. Tenzin and the United Republic Council had failed, but he didn't seem to accept that—or that, possibly, Korra could help. Now, he wasn't even looking at her.

"I'll spend the night here," Tenzin said, "but we'll have to leave tomorrow morning and make for Republic City at top speed. If I'm lucky, I can get there in two days… before the situation can become even worse."

Korra heard these words—just barely, though. Before Tenzin was halfway through speaking, she was on her feet and walking away, and just after he finished speaking, she was out the door.

* * *

Korra went to sleep early that night, and as a result, she got up early the next morning. Generally, she was eager to greet each new day with an hour or so of calisthenics to warm her up, but that day, she found herself grumpy and lethargic.

And she knew why.

Still, she was able to do a few laps around the testing arena, although she wasn't at her best by a long shot. Even a few sets of firebending katas later didn't see her much more motivated, so she just went off to sit with Naga.

It wasn't long before she saw Tenzin and his family rise into the air, leaving the South Pole… without her.

He hadn't come to say goodbye, but it was just as well. She doubted she'd have it in her to receive him.

Korra looked to the side, rather angrily. Her posture was poor—and it was never poor—as she glared holes into the frigid ground all around her.

"Huh," she grunted. "Tenzin… I guess it was impossible for me to go with them, anyway. I'm sure Oogi's strong, but I doubt he could take you all the way to Republic City, girl."

That comment made her feel a bit better, if only for a moment. Because a moment later, she was looking around the small enclosure where Naga was kept. She'd never thought of it before, but now, she saw it for what it was: a cage.

And then she looked around at her own home.

Massive walls, dozens of Order of the White Lotus guards, telegraph lines to numerous locations all over the world, secret exits, enough heavy weapons to hold off a sustained invasion…

Comfort, warmth, food, and state-of-the-art facilities built specifically to train her…

The greatest, wisest men and women alive…

It was all a bad joke, though. It was a cage. Korra was as imprisoned as Naga was; though she was able to visit her parents most evenings and on some weekends, she was a prisoner in her own right. She could _never_ escape the gaze of the White Lotus, and although she was grateful for their willingness to go to war to protect her, it diminished her own freedom as a person.

Now that she realized it, she realized that she _hated_ it.

She had to leave. She had to go somewhere—even if she couldn't get to Republic City immediately, she had to go. She was seventeen years old, and she'd never seen more than the several dozen square kilometers of frigid emptiness that surrounded her home and her parents' tribal grounds. She was the Avatar, and unless she wanted to be the most provincial Avatar to have ever lived, she had to see something different from what she had seen every day of her life until then.

She stood up.

A group of White Lotus sentries passed by—so, they were monitoring her thoughts somehow and were coming to restrain her—

No, that wasn't it. They just passed her by, giving her a wave, before continuing to talk to one another about the news for that day.

A ship had come to port, a trade ship. It brought wares to sell, and once its wares were sold, it bought coats, clothes, jewelry, and other such things from the Southern Water Tribe.

These trinkets, after all, fetched a hefty price… in Republic City.

* * *

She spent the rest of the day preparing. She packed her clothes and the few other positions she might need for the journey, and then she snuck into the kitchen area to pinch a few boxes of prepared meals.

After that, she spent a few hours training so that people could see her and tell themselves that she'd gotten over the disappointment of the previous night, and that she wasn't up to anything unusual.

Then, she started to scope the trade ship out.

Security was tight, as always, and that meant that her job would be difficult. There were White Lotus guards all over the docks, and Korra knew from a lifetime of experience that they were quick, sharp, and impossible to just sneak past.

Apart from that, she didn't exactly have a good view from where she was, on a high turret at the external wall of the compound built to train her. The ship was far away and although she had the eyes of a hawk in good conditions, it was starting to snow, so visibility was going down.

Worse yet, she couldn't just stand and stare for very long, or else—

"Something on your mind, Korra?"

"What—I—no—just—oh…"

It was Jon Li. He had climbed up a nearby guard tower and approached Korra silently, getting to within a few yards of her without arousing her suspicion.

And now he was looking at her like the cat that ate the canary.

Korra felt herself flush. She willed her expression to become stern, and crossed her arms.

"What?" she demanded.

"So, you're thinking of stowing away, are you?" Jon Li asked.

Korra tried not to react to that, but she was sure that she had. Her eyes had widened, or something, because now Jon Li was grinning and shaking his head at her as if she was a naughty child.

"No, I wasn't, I—"

"Oh, come on, Korra. I saw how you were looking at that ship," he said. "You were scoping it out. You're going to try to hitch a ride to Republic City."

At this point, there really was no use in denying anything, so Korra just turned away from Jon Li and leaned over, resting on the turret wall. She looked at… nothing, really, or in another sense, she looked at everything—the whole, huge, wild world that she would apparently never see.

"Not to Republic City," Korra said. "Even if that ship was going to the middle of nowhere, I'd take it. I'm… sick of being here, Jon, I… training is fun and everything, and so is learning history and all that, but… I'm the Avatar. I'm supposed to master all four of the elements, and I'm supposed to bring balance to the world. How can I do that, when the only lifestyle I've ever known is the Southern Water Tribe's? How can I deal with Sarrakans, who are completely different from me, if I've never even had to deal with a firebender or an earthbender?"

She turned to face him again.

"You get to go back to the Fire Nation every so often, right? Well… I don't get to go anywhere, ever," she said glumly. "It looks like if the White Lotus has its way, I'll live, grow old and die, right here in this compound."

Jon Li looked down at Korra for a long, long time. She didn't meet his eyes—she just looked into the only home she'd ever known. She was familiar with it; she knew every corridor and passageway, but it looked like she'd get much, much more familiar with it in the future, because she would never, ever leave.

He stepped a little closer to Korra and spoke so quietly that she barely heard him.

"Meet me behind your apartment an hour after dusk tonight," he said. "Bring Naga and your supplies."

He walked away before she had a chance to stop him. She watched him leave for a moment, and then she nodded twice and went back down to ground level before a less friendly member of the Order of the White Lotus could notice her.

* * *

"Thanks for helping me move this crate, Masuto. It would've taken me forever to drag it out to the ship."

"No problem, but—oof!—it weighs a ton! Any idea what's in it?"

"Nah, you know how it is. 'Do this, do that, move this, move that, but don't ask any questions!'"

"Too true, man."

Jon Li was a man of the Fire Nation, and a rather skilled firebender, in fact. Such skills were quite useful in the brutal winters that froze the South Pole solid for months at a time, but on the other hand, if he wanted to move something or lift something, he had no advantage over a non-bender.

Masuto, on the other hand, was a colleague and a fellow member of the Order of the White Lotus. He was from Omashu—a distant relative of the legendary King Bumi, in fact—and his earthbending skills were respected throughout the South Pole.

Moving a crate—no matter how heavy it was—was just another day at the office for him. And he certainly had no problems whatsoever with helping his friend, Jon Li, from time to time.

So they made their way out of the compound and toward the nearby Southern Water Tribe village. It took about an hour to walk those few miles, but eventually, they found themselves at the port.

And then they loaded the crate onto the ship, after explaining to the captain that it was addressed to Tenzin and was _not_ to be opened or tampered with until it got there.

After that, Masuto started to go back to the compound. He waited, though, as Jon Li went back into the ship to make sure that the crate was secure, though.

* * *

"Psst, Korra—it's me, Jon Li."

She could hear him through the crate wall, if barely, and spoke quietly so that he too could only just hear her.

"Are we onboard?" she murmured. "Ooft—Naga, stop squashing me, girl!"

"Yes," Jon Li hissed. "You're onboard, and the ship will depart in the next couple minutes. Give it a few hours before you get out of the crate… you're in the hold, so no one will come to check until you dock at Republic City."

"Perfect! Thanks, Jon Li," Korra said, perhaps a little too loudly.

"Ssssh," he whispered. "By the way… when you get to Republic City, you snuck onboard by yourself, and I didn't have anything to do with it. If you tell them I helped you… well, we'll probably never see each other again anyway, but if you tell them, I _guarantee_ we'll never see each other again."

He let that sink in for a moment.

"Good luck to you, Avatar Korra. I'll… see you around, alright?"

Korra could do nothing more than nod. She wished she could say goodbye to Jon Li properly, or perhaps give him a friendly hug in farewell, or perhaps even something else.

This was not to be, though. Jon Li left—she heard his footsteps as they trailed away, off the boat—and then, not ten minutes later, she felt the ship get under way.

After some time, Korra drifted to sleep, using Naga for both comfort and warmth. When she woke up, she'd be halfway to Republic City, the rest of her life, the Sarrakans, and, possibly, the Followers of the Black God.

* * *

(I have to say that I am surprised by what a lack of reception this story has gotten. There have been very few hits so far and no useful reviews, so my motivation to focus on this has dropped a lot. Let's see if this chapter will turn things around.)


	4. Chapter III

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

Followers of the Black God

Chapter Three

* * *

The sighting of land was big news in the ship, and as such, Korra, though she was below deck and carefully hidden from activity by a few hundred cubic meters of packed goods, was able to hear about it. After snaking through territory that had once belonged to Airbenders, the ship had travelled across open ocean for a spell.

Once upon a time, those waters would have been heavily guarded by Fire Nation warships. Now, they were lightly patrolled by Fire Nation coast guard units, and the sighting of one of them was no cause for alarm or concern.

In other words, it was smooth sailing to coast—literally. Hours passed Korra monotonously, and there wasn't anything she could do to speed the passage of time. She couldn't make any noise, for fear of alerting the ship's crew, and she didn't have much room to move around, either.

In fact, with Naga lazing around next to her, the quarters she'd managed to etch out for herself were downright cramped.

So she sat, resting her chin on her hands, utterly bored and irritated. She knew that as the Avatar, she wasn't supposed to seek glory or excitement—but this was torture! Korra wasn't the sort of person who could tolerate sitting around and doing nothing for very long. Sure, it was nice to rest a little bit, but for days on end? That was too much.

Well, at least the end of the journey was imminent. Once land had been spotted, it was likely that the merchant vessel would hug the coast of the Earth Kingdom all the way north, up to Republic City. So, she had to sit still and be quiet… just for a few more hours.

What would happen, she wondered, if she were to be caught? She'd probably be yelled at by the ship's captain and crew for a while, and once they got to port, she'd be taken into official custody and placed under arrest. When that happened… once it became clear that she was the Avatar, Tenzin would get involved and she'd be in serious trouble.

That is, if the ship didn't turn around and sail right back to the South Pole.

Korra made her mind up then and there that when arrival at Republic City was imminent, she'd mount up on Naga.

And then, at first opportunity, she'd ride out—hard.

* * *

She felt the ship slow down. Then, she felt it halt completely.

Moments passed, and Korra knew that the ship was being lashed to the docks. Soon, it would be time go to, but she was already prepared.

She was sitting on top of Naga, and though they were both hidden from immediate view of whoever was outside, they were just twenty or so yards from the port that provided access to the ship's main storage compartment. When it opened…

There was no more time to think. The port was opening.

Before it was even completely lowered, before Korra's eyes had fully adjusted to the glare of light she hadn't seen for days, she dug her heels into Naga's sides sharply. This sent the polar bear dog barreling out of the ship at such a speed that Korra had to hold on tight or else risk falling off.

She didn't fall off, though. She stayed on top of Naga, and as she regained her ability to see again, she was able to guide her mount through a small throng of workers and away from the dock. She heard shouts and curses trail after her, but she paid them no heed—she simply kept pushing Naga, faster and faster down the docks, until they were out of sight of the ship entirely.

Within seconds, Korra had escaped the docks, and within minutes, she'd escaped that part of the city altogether. It was probable that the ship's captain would file some sort of complaint with the police about a stowaway, but even if that happened, time and bureaucracy needed to pass before someone put two and two together and realized that the Avatar was in Republic City.

Korra had therefore escaped the attention of a lot of important people and, in fact, law enforcement itself. At least for the moment.

However, she had not escaped the attention of a slim, red-haired man who worked at the docks for the most minimal of wages.

People hated him and sometimes abused him, that shrimpy, pathetic bastard of a man, and his employers barely paid him enough money to buy food for himself. And yet he had worked at the docks for two months, now, and he continued to work to that day.

Until then, he'd never had a reason to stay where he was, doing what he was. But what he saw at that very moment made all of his months of suffering and putting up with nonsense worth it—and then some.

"Alright, girl, I think we're far enough away. We can slow down now…"

Often, Korra was overconfident, but this time, her confidence in her safety was calculated and reasonable. In the ten minutes since she and Naga had escaped from the docks, they'd covered perhaps four miles and although they'd encountered any number of people passing them by, no one had seemed to take an undue interest in them.

Actually, that wasn't quite true.

Korra had grown up in the South Pole, in the installation created to keep her safe, or else in the miniscule territory that her tribe called home. Things there were organized and simple, and well, the fact was that Korra had never been around more than a few dozen people at the same time.

The streets of Republic City were filled with hundreds if not _thousands_ of people, all milling about, each going his or her own way. Worse yet, there was vehicular traffic, so, well, Korra and Naga had come all too close to causing accidents… at least ten times.

The good news, though, was that they hadn't been followed or tracked, as far as she could tell. Sure, there were still some people near them, but none of them were paying any more attention to them than was due to a girl with a polar bear dog.

She was justified in relaxing and hopping off Naga. Besides, she'd been in Republic City for some minutes, now, without even taking a moment to pause and look around at her surroundings.

And so she did. She simply stood and looked around in all directions; at the skyscrapers in the distance, at the mountains beyond them, at the surrounding business districts and apartments, and then, of course, at park where she and Naga found themselves just then.

There was nothing special about it. There was grass and there were trees, and there were idyllic stone bridges that connected a series of miniature "islands" set in a shimmering, placid lake. To many people in the world, such surroundings would have been plain at best, but to Korra, they were almost mind-blowing.

She'd never left the South Pole before, and even in the summer months, the temperature there rarely rose above freezing. As such, Korra had never seen grass before, let alone felt it beneath her own two feet—and so, for ten minutes, she did just that—she walked around barefoot to feel grass under her feet.

How wonderful it felt. How soft, and comforting, and warm it felt.

And although the rest of the city had been noisy, here in the park, things were surprisingly quiet. Sure, people chatted with one another from time to time, but the clamor of a marketplace not far away was nothing more than a quiet din in the park, and there were no other sources of undue noise that distracted Korra from enjoying herself.

She found herself looking at the city again.

She'd seen it in pictures before, of course, in paintings and textbooks that had been ferried to the South Pole so that the children of her people could become educated about the rest of the world. But nothing she'd ever seen or read had prepared her for the sheer scale of Republic City—the place was massive!

The first time Korra had looked at the skyscrapers, she'd assumed that they were a lot closer than they really were. Now that she looked more closely, though, she began to realize just how massive those giant white towers really were. Some of them were so tall that they reached into the clouds, perhaps literally scraping the sky in the process.

Apart from that, Korra and Naga had traveled perhaps four miles to get to the docks to this park. That was a fair distance, and Korra guessed that Republic City itself and the surrounding metropolitan areas were at least twenty miles from end to end along any axis. And each square mile of Republic City housed dozens of people, so…

That meant that there were _hundreds of thousands_ of people in Republic City.

Korra was no idiot. She'd learned math in her childhood and into her teenage years as well. She'd worked with numbers of great magnitude before, but the fact was that she had no concept of just how many "a hundred thousand" was. Her mind simply couldn't work with numbers that big—the idea of a thousand people itself was almost too much for her to accept.

But accept it she'd have to, because now, she was one of those untold thousands in Republic City.

Now, Korra was pacing. The sensation of grass beneath her feet was ceasing to interest her; she now had more important things to think about.

What should her next move be?

For a moment, Korra wasn't sure. And then, at the sound of a slight commotion perhaps a hundred yards away, she raised her head.

On one of the white, stone bridges that connected landmass to landmass in the park, a scene was playing itself out. Korra couldn't be sure, but it seemed like someone had been caught pickpocketing, or attempting to do so, and was being yelled at and slapped by his would-be victim. Naturally, there was yelling, though it was punctuated by the audible impact of flesh against flesh.

After a few moments, the issue seemed to sort itself out. The would-be pickpocket went one way and his would-be victim went the other.

Beyond the park, in the direction Korra was looking, there seemed to be a neighborhood. She couldn't be sure, but judging by how poorly-lit it was, and how the buildings within it seemed to squash up against one another in some sort of battle for space suggested that it wasn't an upper-class development—not at all. Indeed, a sense of claustrophobia arose in Korra until she blinked and looked away from the slum, and the ominous path through the park toward it—but she knew that conditions like those were reality for all too many citizens of Republic City.

Korra took in a deep breath, and then she let it out slowly. Her face became a mask of calm, and shortly, she was able to control the beating of her heart.

She was the Avatar—master of all four elements—well, so far, just three of them—but that was two more than the next best person!—and it was her responsibility to bring peace and order to the world. To do that, she had to understand the world, not cower away from it when it intimidated her.

Her duty was therefore clear. To understand Republic City, she had to walk around in it, in _all_ of it, not the well-maintained parks where all sorts of people came to recreate and relax. She had to examine reality for the underclass that formed the backbone of Republic City's population.

Korra turned to face her mount.

"Stay here, Naga," she said. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

It was even worse than she'd thought it would be.

The scent of decaying garbage inducing a caustic, burning sensation in Korra's nostrils, as if she was inhaling undiluted acid, and it was no wonder why. Sanitation apparently wasn't popular in that neighborhood; instead of being kept in neat bins to be transported off to a landfill, trash was simply thrown into the street, or, at best, the open gutters that flanked the street.

At one point, Korra had nudged a bottle in her way with a toe, only to send a family of cockroaches that had sheltered inside of it running in all directions.

Since then, she'd kept well away from any scrap in the street, no matter how innocent it looked.

And as bad as the street smelled, the people who lived in it weren't much better. Some of them wore half-decent clothes; many of them did not. Shreds of cloth tied around their waists with twine served as loincloths, and some went even without these meager coverings. Hardly any one of the people Korra passed by seemed to have bathed in the past week or so, and she would be surprised if half of the slum's residents even understood the concept of bathing.

Perhaps the worst thing was that human waste was disposed in the same manner that other waste was: it was simply left in the street.

The whole place was stifling, stinking, disgusting, revolting. Though it was still early in the afternoon, that neighborhood was dark, by virtue of the fact that a series of large buildings had been erected to the west of the area. These centers of commerce and economy blotted out sunlight, so that the Sun there set early.

Korra then realized that there were tall buildings to the east of the slum as well. That meant that there was only sunlight there for a few hours, around noon. The rest of the day, the whole place was blacked out.

That didn't stop it from being alive, though. There were people there, milling around in the streets or else speaking loudly in their half-collapsed houses, playing games with cards and drinking from dirty bottles. There were men, women, children, and old people, and every single one of them Korra saw disgusted her in some way.

A group of men passed her; she shrank away instinctively when they leered at her and made a few comments that made her cheeks redden. It was good that she was tall and obviously muscular, because she got the feeling that if anything else was true… she didn't want to think about it.

The people on their feet were bad enough, but what really upset Korra as she continued to travel through the neighborhood were those not on their feet.

Like human filth, these broken men and women sat next to open sewers and gutters, feebly raising too-thin hands to whoever passed by. Sometimes, the odd passerby would throw them a coin or a morsel of food, but more often, these beggars, the poorest of the poor in Republic City, were ignored or laughed at or sworn at or worse.

Looking at them made Korra's heart ache. As Zhao had told her, she had lived her life without knowing the mark of the Black God, but there were other things she didn't know, either, and one of them was hunger—real hunger; true, burning pain that gnawed at the insides when too much time had passed without food. Hunger like that consumed life itself, but before it did so, it consumed the sentient light in a human's eyes that marked them as a person.

Korra could see this in the beggars she passed. They were simply too poor, too thin, too hungry to be human.

She didn't have any money with her—come to think of it, she'd _never_ had money in her life—but if she had, she'd have given it all to them, just to fill the emptiness in their bellies, and their eyes.

But the fact was that Korra couldn't do anything for them. She had no money and no food, and she had no idea how to get either of them. She—

Something was going on perhaps two blocks away—a loud verbal argument, it seemed, had escalated into a shoving match. On one side was two or three angry-looking teenagers, and on the other was a man old enough to be their grandfather, yelling at them to leave him alone and clutching at a handful of currency to try to keep it out of their reach.

Korra realized that she was watching a mugging as it happened. She also realized that while the streets were far from deserted, no one was doing anything to stop it—if anything, they were watching it as if it was a source of entertainment.

She then realized that she was running toward the scene with all haste, and that when she got there, there would be Hell to pay.

* * *

Tenzin had arrived at Republic City in a timely manner. He'd pushed Oogi hard, and as such, he'd gotten back to Air Temple Island in the two-day timeframe he'd set for himself. It was just a bit slower than a fast merchant vessel, but that couldn't be helped—he had to stop to give Oogi a break, every so often, and to sleep. Besides, his family simply could not travel by ship. Ships were too easy to track, to target and to intercept, and the last thing he wanted on his mind was the idea that his family wasn't safe.

At least Air Temple Island was safe—beyond safe, actually. Apart from housing a garrison of highly-trained White Lotus guards, Air Temple Island had direct telegraph lines to the police and the United Forces, and Tenzin could evacuate his family in less than two minutes if necessary.

So, he breathed a bit easier as he made his way into his office, knowing that although he had a lot to worry about, at least his family was safe. His children were riled up from the long flight with nothing to do, and were glad to be let loose into the training grounds outside of their home. Pema, on the other hand, was exhausted, and retired to bed immediately after sharing a brief kiss with her husband.

After that, Tenzin was left alone with his work.

Murdering a police officer—a police _chief_, in fact, was a serious matter. During the second wave of the Followers of the Black God, police officers had been targeted for assault and worse, and, yes, from time to time, some of them had met violent ends.

This, however, was something entirely different. The cop who had been killed had been killed in cold blood, and that was something that even Tenzin couldn't have foreseen. And the fact that the Followers of the Black God were now willing to go to such lengths to achieve their goals spoke a lot about how serious they were, and about how seriously they ought to be taken.

The question was what to do about them.

During the first wave of their existence, and indeed the second, the United Republic Council had tried to develop informants within the Followers, or close to them. They had been utterly and completely unsuccessful, so they had tried to develop assets within the Sarrakan community itself.

This, too, had failed, and Tenzin knew why. The United Republic Council represented all races in the United Republic of Nations, _except_ for the Sarrakan race. Apart from that, the Council had never, ever tried to reach out to the Sarrakans or even take their concerns seriously. These facts, combined with that Sarrakans themselves were both exclusive and united, had meant that not a single person within the Sarrakan community had been willing to do anything with anyone remotely related to the Council.

This had, of course, led to the implementation of more heavy-handed methods. These methods had resulted in success insofar that stability had returned to Republic City, but there had been unintended consequences. And Tenzin was sure that one of those unintended consequences had been this new, third wave of the Followers of the Black God.

He'd have to act quickly, or else the steps that would be taken to combat the Followers—and the Sarrakan community—would be so extreme that Republic City would be unlikely to ever recover from them—

There was a knock at his door.

The last thing Tenzin needed now was a distraction, but something told him that he ought not to ignore this query. So, sitting with perfect posture, he told whoever was at his door to enter.

A White Lotus lieutenant strode toward Tenzin carrying a scroll and wearing a severe expression on his face. Tenzin knew the man well; he'd been stationed at Air Temple Island for the past ten years for good reason—he was a capable leader and a wise one, and when he looked like that, something serious was going on.

"Councilman Tenzin," he said, "do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

So he was skipping the customary greetings and queries one might expect after returning home after a journey to the other side of the world.

This really was serious.

"Good news first," Tenzin said.

"The CIB is willing to meet with you at your convenience to discuss Quan So's assassination. Their representative wasn't willing to tell me much, but I believe that they have no leads."

"Alright," Tenzin said. "What is the bad news?"

"Avatar Korra is missing," the lieutenant said gravely. "Her disappearance was noticed in the South Pole on the eve of your departure, and since then, there have been no signs of her whereabouts."

A lifetime of practice at controlling what showed on his face was what kept Tenzin from reacting by doing more than widening his eyes slightly. A career of practice at managing crises was what kept him from panicking.

"How has my mother reacted?"

"All South Pole ports have been shut down and an exhaustive search of the area is still being conducted, as far as we're aware. Naga is missing too," he added, and that calmed Tenzin down a little bit.

So, perhaps she hadn't been assassinated or kidnapped. Perhaps she'd just run away… but how? And how had she evaded recapture by the White Lotus for so long? Tenzin had just been at the South Pole, and he'd seen the security measures that had been taken there—_no one _could get in or out of the area without the White Lotus noticing!

That is… not unless the White Lotus itself had been compromised…

Tenzin entered an almost meditative state for a few seconds. When he emerged from it, he looked the lieutenant in the eye and spoke curtly.

"Use the secondary command center to query the South Pole for an update of the situation. Then, contact the Fire Nation Navy and the Southern Water Tribe's leaders and coordinate a temporary blockade of all South Pole ports. Inform the appropriate Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation intelligence services of the situation, and request their full cooperation in this matter. Their leaders are sensible and rational; they shouldn't resist you at all."

"What about the CIB and the United Forces?"

"You haven't told them yet?"

The lieutenant shook his head.

"After you left for the South Pole, I ordered an investigation on our telegraph lines. It found that not only are they insecure at several points, but they're so insecure that it would be negligent of the Followers to ignore them."

"So, our lines _were_ compromised," Tenzin said.

"Some of them," the lieutenant said. "The lines to the South Pole, CIB, and United Forces have almost certainly been monitored, but the rest…" He shrugged. "We're not sure."

Tenzin's eyes hardened.

"I'll meet with the CIB immediately; they'll get in touch with all the appropriate parties. Just… stay here, and focus on security—"

It was then that Tenzin received a telegram. He'd been standing up to grab a traveling cloak from a stand in the corner of his room when his machine activated itself and began to spit out a brief message from an old… associate of his: Lin Beifong, Chief of the city's elite metalbending police group.

For a split second, Tenzin contemplated simply leaving, and reading the telegram at his convenience. Then, he remembered that Lin _never_ contacted him, not without good reason, so… well, it would only take a few moments to read the telegram. Besides, it could be something of particularly great import.

So, Tenzin read the telegram. At the end, he paused, and then he read it again.

His lips twitched the slightest amount; the other man in the room noticed this but didn't know if Tenzin was relieved or happy or annoyed or something in between.

"Ignore all of my previous commands," Tenzin said, looking at the White Lotus lieutenant, "and inform the South Pole that the Avatar is in the custody of… the appropriate authorities. Dismissed."

The younger man snapped to attention for a second before turning to leave. A moment later, Tenzin followed him, as brooding and unreadable as ever.

* * *

Korra had not received extensive training in the fields of law enforcement and interrogation. She was, after all, the Avatar, not a cop, so such matters of law enforcement were generally beneath her. Her mission was to save the world from severe threats to peace and freedom, not to lock up small-time criminals.

But, some months back, the late firebending master Zhao had insisted that she learn at least the basics of how police tended to work. After all, in an age without tensions between the nations or large-scale rebellions, it was more likely than not that Korra would have to work alongside police, at least, and to do so in an effective manner she would have to understand how they operated.

So, Korra knew what was going on. She knew precisely what was going on. She was being left alone in a miniscule, silent room, so that the police wouldn't have to do much to psyche her out—her own mind would do that on its own.

That is, that's what would happen if Korra felt an iota of guilt—and she didn't. She had nothing to feel guilty for, after all. In fact, just thinking about what had happened made her grit her teeth, and thinking about how the police had reacted made a throbbing vein appear in her forehead.

But she forced herself to keep calm. Sooner or later, they'd have to interrogate her, and when they did, she had to have complete control of her emotions.

So, Korra breathed deeply and sat up straight. Her hands were bound to a large wooden table with handcuffs, and that was annoying, but at least she could still look around.

Not that there was much to look at. The holding cell she'd been placed in was barely eight feet by ten, and totally bare. The floors were stone and the door was metal, and apart from the table, there wasn't a thing in it. Korra was familiar with bleak surroundings—she was from the South Pole, after all, a landscape even more foreboding and harsh than its counterpart at the North—but this was different. There was no noise and no color, and if the rest of the world had just ended in a terrible cataclysm, Korra would never know about it.

Reflexively, Korra flexed her hands. Hmm… the handcuffs weren't that strong, and the cell itself was made of stone. If she was careful, she could bend the walls with her feet and free herself—

The door opened, cancelling Korra's escape plan. Again, she was calm and collected—at least, that was the mask she showed to the one who entered.

She was a tall woman, with gray hair and green eyes. Her uniform marked her as not just a regular cop, but an elite metalbender, and there was some sort of insignia on her upper chest. Clearly, she was an important person—and Korra kept his in mind. Who knew, maybe with a little flattery her and there, she could talk her way out of trouble—

"Disturbing the peace, multiple counts of destroying private and public property, multiple counts of assault, disobeying lawfully-given orders, evading arrest," the older woman listed, slowly walking forward before placing her hands on the table and leaning forward to glare at Korra. "You're in a whole mess of trouble, young lady."

Korra felt herself shying away from the police officer—whoever she was—before she remembered what she had done, and why she had done it.

"But there were some thugs trying to mug an old man," Korra protested. "They were about to beat him up, so I—"

"Can it," the officer practically spat. She shook her head and took a scroll of parchment from an unseen pocket, placing it on the table so that she could read it.

"You should have called the police and stayed away, instead of beating up a bunch of kids."

"I couldn't stay away," Korra said. Her composure had broken, and had her wrists not been cuffed to the table, she would have stood up and glared at the police officer, whoever she was. "They had already knocked him down by the time I got there! It would have taken me a few minutes to find a telegraph booth to call the police, and then it would have taken the police a few minutes to get there, and by that time, the old man would've been robbed and beaten, or worse. I had no choice."

"How dare you insult the capability of the metalbending police force," the older woman said. "Our response times are the best _in the world_, and—"

"And they're still too slow!" Korra said. "You might have only been minutes away, but at times like this, seconds matter. I don't mean to insult the police, but they weren't a presence in that neighborhood, and they haven't been a presence in that neighborhood for weeks! Why else would a group of thugs attack an old man in broad daylight? They had to have thought that there was no chance of the police doing anything about it, or else they'd have done it… at night, or out of public view, or something! But they didn't," Korra said. "They did it where everyone could see it, except for the police, if they'd been there. But they weren't, and if I'd have done what you said, they might get to that neighborhood… sometime tomorrow."

The chief looked like she may have bought what Korra was saying, right up until that final statement. A moment too late, Korra realized that that parting shot at the metalbending police might have tipped the scales against her.

"Your opinion about this doesn't matter," she said casually, straightening the several papers in her hands. "The facts are clear. You got into a brawl, damaged a number of buildings—"

"_Which were all unsafe for habitation anyway,"_ Korra thought to herself.

"You beat up a bunch of kids, refused to stand down when ordered to, and then ran from the police—"

"Who arrived in a timely manner, twenty minutes after the fact, when I was healing that poor old man. They'd started to stomp on him when I got there, and if I didn't know how to heal, he'd be dead now," Korra pointed out. "If I had done what you suggested, you wouldn't be pressing charges of assault and destruction of property against me—you'd be pressing charges of murder against a few 'kids' who I so ruthlessly beat up."

"So you admit you beat them up," the chief said without missing a beat. "Good, an admission of guilt makes my job much easier—"

"Just what am I guilty of?!" Korra suddenly yelled. She stood up and strained at her cuffs for a moment, and it was lucky that they were metal—the one earth substance she couldn't yet bend.

"If it's a crime to save old men from being mugged and killed in the street, then fine, I'm a criminal," Korra said. "But I don't have a choice when it comes to protecting people who can't protect themselves. See… I'm the Avatar," Korra explained. "I can't _not_ do anything to help poor old people. That's not my place in life."

"I'm well aware of who you are," the chief said. "And your 'Avatar' title might impress some people, but not me."

_That_ took Korra by surprise.

Over the years, she'd received visits from officials from all of the nations, and everyone had shown her a great deal of respect and, in some cases, deference. Once, when she'd attended a dinner with the Earth King, she'd been treated like a guest of honor and no one had started to eat until she had.

Clearly, this lowly police chief didn't understand who she was dealing with. So, trying not to be too impolite, Korra spoke again.

"I want to talk to whoever's in charge."

"You're talking to her," the chief replied coolly, as if this was an evasion she'd heard a thousand times before.

"Fine, then," Korra said through gritted teeth, "may I please speak to whoever you report to?"

"That would be… nobody," the chief said. "I'm Head Chief Lin Beifong, head of the Metalbending Police Force. I don't have a boss, and no one in law enforcement is above me."

"Beifong… Lin Beifong, a metalbender?" Korra said. "Are you… Toph's daughter?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Why are you treating me like a criminal?" Korra asked, honestly confused. "My past life and your mother were friends—they saved the world together!"

"That's history," Beifong replied, "and it has nothing to do with the mess you're in right now. I'm not my mother, and you're not Avatar Aang, kid. You can't just enter Republic City and dole out vigilante justice like you own the place! You don't even have the papers to be here—"

A section of Korra's cell wall moved aside, revealing a lower-ranking officer who sharply saluted the Captain before addressing her.

"Chief," he said, "Councilman Tenzin is here to see you."

Beifong's eyes narrowed.

"Tell him to wait," she said. "I'm busy interrogating a suspect."

The other officer fidgeted a bit as another, deeper voice was heard somewhere past him.

"Councilman Tenzin would like to remind you that while you're the head of civilian law enforcement in Republic City, the United Republic Constitution has a system of checks and balances which means that—"

"All right, all right, I don't want to go through the whole 'checks and balances' lecture again," Beifong groaned. "Let him in."

A larger section of the cell wall moved aside, and Tenzin entered, as tall and regal as ever. Beifong had stood to greet him and was now clasping her hands at the small of her back, and for a brief moment, there seemed to be a silent battle as each the Captain and the Councilman attempted to ascertain who could be more stern and intimidating without saying a word or raising a hand.

"Tenzin," Korra began in a very small voice. She cleared her throat and then spoke more normally. "Sorry, I… was just coming to see you, but I guess I got a little sidetracked…"

Tenzin inhaled, briefly, before turning to face Beifong again. He suddenly began to smile in a manner that made Korra cringe, though she noted that he stood as tall and straight-backed as ever. Not a crease in his flowing robes was out of place.

"Lin, you are looking radiant as usual—"

"Cut the bullshit, Tenzin," Beifong said crassly, as if she'd expected such a cheesy greeting. "Why is the Avatar in my city? Why are _you_ still here, for that matter? I thought you were supposed to be moving down to the South Pole to train her."

"My relocation has been delayed," Tenzin said coolly. "I would have told you, but that information was disseminated on a strictly need-to-know basis."

For a moment, Beifong bristled at the apparent insult, but Tenzin looked at her gravely and explained.

"We have discovered that our communications may have been compromised, so we're avoiding the use of telegraphs until further notice," he said.

"Is it the Followers?" Beifong asked sharply.

Tenzin didn't answer, but his silence could only be interpreted in one way. There was no proof that it was the Followers yet, but no other group had the means or motive to quietly survey Republic City officials' communications for weeks.

"Anyway," Tenzin said, "while my relocation has been delayed, the Avatar, on the other hand," he turned to glare at Korra, "will be heading back to the South Pole immediately, where she will stay _put_—"

"But I—" Korra began.

"If you would be kind enough to drop the charges against Korra," Tenzin said, speaking over her and looking back at Beifong, "I will take full responsibility for today's regrettable events, and cover all the damages."

For a moment, there was another silent battle of wills. Korra certainly didn't want to be taken back to the South Pole, but she realized that her alternative was even worse. With a jolt of panic, she realized what might happen if Beifong refused Tenzin's request—she'd be charged, prosecuted, and almost certainly thrown in jail. In a best case scenario, she'd be held and processed for a few weeks before being thrown out of the United Republic of Nations as an illegal immigrant. If that happened, she'd never be allowed to return, and how could she be the Avatar then?

Fortunately, after a few seconds of consideration, Beifong sighed. "Fine," she said, and with a casual flick of her hands, she undid the cuffs pinning Korra's wrists to the table. "Get her out of my city."

"Always a pleasure, Lin," Tenzin said with the practiced but false sincerity of someone who was a career politician. "Let's go, Korra."

He didn't have to tell her twice. The moment her hands were released, Korra stood up and immediately made her way for the door. As she left, Beifong made a gesture indicating that her eyes were going to be on Korra until she was out of Republic City.

Korra's response was a gesture involving only one finger.

* * *

Escape was on her mind even as Tenzin led her through the police station. Sure, it was heavily guarded, but there might be a few seconds after they left it when he would be distracted. She might be able to make a break for it, and—

Oh. The White Lotus. Of course.

The uniformed men were waiting outside for her as a blatant show of force. Even for Korra and Tenzin, a security detail of six or seven White Lotus bodyguards was more than sufficient, but there were no fewer than twenty-five of them waiting outside of the police station. Clearly, Tenzin was trying to intimidate someone, and Korra knew who it was.

Unfortunately, his goal was being achieved. The more Korra looked for a way to escape her situation, the more hopeless her situation seemed. Even though Naga was waiting outside for her, her spirits weren't lifted—especially when Tenzin said that she would be flying back to Air Temple Island with him, while White Lotus members took Naga to the port in preparation for departure.

"Huh," Korra grumbled as she followed Tenzin onto Oogi. "You could have just _told_ me not to run away. I'd have listened."

"Because you've proven to be so obedient in the past," Tenzin replied thinly. Once he was sitting down with each of his legs on either side of Oogi's neck, he looked around, for a moment, before signaling to the White Lotus that it was time to move out.

Oogi lifted off, then, and Korra watched as the ground below them got farther and farther away. It was her first time flying, but this didn't impress her. She simply sulked in one corner of the pad on Oogi's back and held one knee close to her chest, with her other leg extended out in front of her.

"Couldn't even let me take Naga to Air Temple Island," she muttered.

"It's safer in the air, Korra," Tenzin said. "And you don't seem to appreciate just how much danger you put yourself into."

"So I got into a little fight, big deal," Korra said. "Those guys were barely benders; I could have taken them with both hands tied behind my back."

Tenzin tugged on Oogi's harness, then, so that the air bison made its way into a group of clouds that was starting to descend over Republic City. In a moment, he and Korra were invisible to anyone who might be watching them from the ground.

"I'm not talking about your little brawl," Tenzin said, "I'm talking about the Followers of the Black God. They know that you're here."

There was silence for a few seconds, before Korra spoke.

"How?" she asked. "I was only in Republic City for… maybe thirty minutes before the fight, and then another thirty before the police got me. How could the Followers of the Black God have found out about me? How do you even know that they know I'm here? Did they tell you?" she asked in an almost taunting tone, trying to show that she wasn't impressed by Tenzin's exaggeration.

"We don't know how they know that you're here," Tenzin said, "but we're certain that they know that you're here. Five minutes after you were taken into custody, there was an attack on the police station that serves that… part of the city. Several officers were injured, one was killed… and when the metalbending police came to back them up, _their_ local station was attacked, too.

"They're monitoring us, Korra," Tenzin said. "When I got back to Republic City, the White Lotus informed me that our communications have been compromised. Do you remember that police chief that turned up dead, hours after I left Republic City? At the time, I thought that was just a coincidence—he'd been abusing the Sarrakan community for years, after all—but now I _know_ that the Followers are angry. They want you, Korra, and if it wasn't for sheer, dumb like, they might have captured or killed you today."

"S-so, the Followers are angry that I'm in the city, so you're sending me away from the city? You're giving in to the demands of these nutcases?" Korra said this in an angry, forceful tone, so that neither she nor Tenzin would detect the fear in her voice.

"I don't have a choice in this matter," Tenzin replied. He turned Oogi, somewhat, and began to slowly descend through cloud cover. Moments later, Air Temple Island could be seen in the not-so-very far distance, just a few miles from the shores of Republic City.

"And they're not nutcases, Korra. They're not madmen chucking grenades about. These are organized, professional people with clear goals and motives," he said. "I respect them as a serious threat to Republic City, and if you did too, you'd see why you _must_ go back to the South Pole with all haste, and stay there until the situation stabilizes."

"But the situation isn't _going_ to stabilize!" Korra exclaimed. "Tenzin, no offense, but you've had years to deal with the situation, and look at how bad things have gotten. I was only in Republic City for an hour, but in that time I saw… I saw poverty that I couldn't have imagined! I wouldn't have believed poverty like that could exist if I'd read about it in a book—especially in Republic City, which is supposed to be the richest city in the world! And what about the crime?" Korra asked. "When I was being booked at the police station, I saw murderers, muggers, robbers, vandals, and worse, all in about five minutes.

"And I didn't even get close to seeing a Sarrakan community, or having contact with the Followers. Look, the situation is bad and if everything that's going on is any evidence of what's going to happen, then the situation is going to get a lot worse. Locking me away from the world by sending me back to the South Pole isn't going to do anyone any good," Korra said. "I'm not even a full Avatar yet—I can't airbend!"

Tenzin didn't respond. He simply continued to fly toward his home, but, as Korra watched, he veered off, somewhat, so that Oogi settled into a lazy, wide orbit around Air Temple Island, some hundreds of feet above sea level.

"And you think you can fix things?" Tenzin asked. "You, a seventeen-year-old child, think that you can solve problems which the greatest experts and leaders in the United Republic of Nations can't solve?"

"Not necessarily," Korra said. "But your mother and Avatar Aang were a lot younger than I am when they saved the world. And they were guerillas, operating outside of the law and the system. We have the system on our side—we know where we're going to sleep at night, and where our next meal is coming from. Besides, if the best experts in the country can't solve Republic City's problems, maybe you need new blood," she pointed out.

"You don't even understand the situation," Tenzin said, but he didn't sound too certain of himself. "All you know about what's going on is what other people tell you."

"Are you any different?" Korra asked. "You get reports from police and metalbenders, but at the end of the day, you don't know anything about the situation except for what other people tell you. At least I've been in a slum," Korra said. "Have you ever been to one of those places, Tenzin?"

Asking that question had been a gamble, but when Tenzin didn't respond to it, Korra knew that her gamble had paid off.

"Well, then, let me tell you what it's like to be there. It's terrible," Korra said. "You can't even walk in the street without constantly looking down to make sure that you're not about to step into something awful. I'm lucky that I'm almost as tall as you are and built like this," Korra said, indicating her muscular arms, "because I didn't see any women walking around alone, and I think I can guess why.

"And that's not all," she continued. "The city's other half lives without a rule of law, or even any kind of government. Sure, the police are there in theory, but when people disagree about things or have problems, they have to settle their conflicts with contests of force, or else they have to call gangs or just angry people with crowbars. With the Followers of the Black God destabilizing the government, there are less and less resources to fight gangs, let alone poverty… so, when things get worse, you and I might have to be a little more careful with where we go and when we go there, but the poor people in this city are going to be the ones who really suffer. They'll be the ones who are getting robbed more, or getting caught up in gangs, or dying.

"It's usually the Avatar's duty to prevent war and stop tyrants, like Avatar Aang did," Korra said. "But now, I think my duty is a little more subtle. I have to do _something_ about the situation in Republic City, because it's just… just so wrong.

"Back in the South Pole, some people have more money than others, sure, but no one would let their countrymen starve in the street and wallow in their own filth. But that's what's happening in Republic City in broad daylight—or, in the shadows of the skyscrapers where the ultra-rich live and work. This… this gigantic chasm between the way one half of the city lives and the way the other half does, it's… it's just shocking. I can't tolerate it, and I would have thought that you, of all people—as the heir of the Air Nomads and the son of Avatar Aang—would have known that."

_That_ struck a chord in Tenzin. It took him years back, to when he had been a child—when his father had been alive. He remembered once entering his father's study to see the older airbender in apparent distress, covering the lower half of his face with his hand and looking around at his house on Air Temple Island as if he was shocked by what he saw.

Even as a child, Tenzin had been sharp. He had looked around too, and then asked his father what was wrong. The new sections of the house had just been added, after all, and now their home was more beautiful and spacious than ever.

His father had said that _that_ was the problem.

"Son, I may be the Avatar and a member of the Republic City Councilman," Aang had said, "but I'm an Air Nomad at heart. I shouldn't be living like this… It goes against everything I was ever taught by the monks, especially since poverty in this city is a bad problem that's getting worse. I should be living simply, if for no other reason than to remind myself that at my core, I am no better than the poorest beggar in the street, because we're still both equally human.

"From time to time, we might forget that," Aang said, as he'd made his way to the window to look at the wealth and splendor of coastal Republic City. "We might forget that, we rich people, as we dine on our cakes and tea in our castles. But if we ever forget who we are as spiritual beings, as airbenders… then not only are we no better than beggars, we're no better than Ozai himself."

From that day on, his father would disappear, every so often, to live and sleep in the most dismal hovels he could find. He would surround himself with poverty and the people who lived it every day, and for that reason, he had found it with himself to convince the Council to pass a few anti-poverty measures that had proven to be quite effective, for the several years that they'd been in place…

And then, those measures had expired, some years ago. And Tenzin, worried about triad groups and the Followers of the Black God, had not found the time to advocate for their reintroduction.

Korra was not a social activist, not exactly, but everything that she had said was true. Those who truly suffered in war and times of domestic unrest were not the rich or the elites, who always had the chance to leave or surrender. The poor people, the footsoldiers, were the ones who ended up being lined against a wall… or else, lined up to wait for the executioner to call their names.

Tenzin could not bring back anti-poverty measures, not when the city was in a state like this. What he could do was donate some of the money he made in his position as a Councilman—and he made a lot of it—and do everything he possibly could to see the triads, and the Followers of the Black God defeated as quickly as possible, with as few casualties as possible.

And once they were defeated, then he could get back to his true work, as the heir of the Air Nomads, and do what he could to make sure that in the future, poverty itself was a concept as alien to the modern world as true, open warfare.

But first, the Followers of the Black God had to be defeated. And if Korra's presence in Republic City equaled even the slightest advantage over them, then Tenzin's duty as a Council member, as the heir of the Air Nomads, and as the son of his father, was crystal clear.

"I have done my best to guide Republic City towards the dream my father had for it," Tenzin said. "But… since his passing, it has fallen out of balance. I thought that I should put off your training to uphold his legacy, but Korra, _you_ are his legacy. You may stay and learn airbending from me—no, you _must _stay and learn airbending from me. It seems that the world, and Republic City in particular, has need of its Avatar again."

Korra had been able to contain her excitement after she'd officially passed her final firebending exam, but this time, she didn't even try. First, she smiled, then she shouted out in joy, and then she actually hugged Tenzin from the back, suddenly and hard enough that for a terrifying moment, the two of them dropped several feet in midair.

Some moments later, they stabilized, and as they descended toward Air Temple Island, Korra could see that Tenzin was actually smiling. He was actually in a good mood, and hopeful for the future.

That meant that there was no better time than just then to ask him what had been on her mind ever since she'd set foot in Republic City.

"So, uh, Tenzin," Korra said, "since I'm here… mind if I check out a pro-bending match sometime? Pretty, pretty please?"

Tenzin laughed for a moment.

"I'll eat my beard before I let that happen," he replied, and faced forward, stern once again.

The decision about Korra's fate had been made. Now, it was time to see how the Followers of the Black God responded to it.

* * *

(I am proud to have finally gotten back to this piece after so many months. I fully intend to see it through to the end, but how enthusiastic I am about this piece is directly related to how much people seem to like it. So, if you're liking the way things are going, please feel free to drop me a review, or favorite and watch as necessary.

Now that I have set the scene for Korra's presence in Republic City, and properly explained the major groups that exist in this fanfiction's universe, I think that we're ready for some more interesting things. For that reason, the chapters to come will have fewer sections that are more or less direct copy-pastes from the show. There will still be plenty of politics and discussion, but I promise that there will be enough action to move things along.)


	5. Chapter IV

Avatar: The Legend of Korra

Followers of the Black God

Chapter Four

* * *

Korra's first night at Air Temple Island had not been relaxing, simply due to the fact that she could scarcely contain her excitement even when she lay down in bed. She was going to be allowed to stay in Republic City, and learn airbending from the master himself! True, Tenzin had said that pro-bending matches were off-limits, but Korra would see about convincing him later. Once she had earned of his respect and trust, she was sure it wouldn't be hard to convince him to let her take a tiny little incognito trip to the arena.

But first she had to earn his respect and trust. And to do that, she had to impress him tomorrow with her will to learn airbending.

And to do that, she needed to sleep.

That thought finally calmed Korra's mind, and, at just a few minutes before two am, she was able to fall asleep.

But not for long.

Tenzin, his family, and the White Lotus garrison that protected them woke up before dawn, and it seemed that while Korra was staying at Air Temple Island, she wouldn't be exempt from this… strict regimen. Still, it wasn't too much worse than how it was at the South Pole; there, Korra was obligated to wake up just after noon and meet the day with calisthenics and bending exercises before she was allowed to have breakfast.

At least here, Korra would be able to wake up and relax, to a degree. She broke fast with Tenzin and his family and then spent some fifteen minutes exploring Air Temple Island with Naga. After that, she was told to meet Tenzin at a small sunroom set on a cliff-like outcropping not far from his house.

Korra arrived, dressed as an airbender, and found that the exercise she had apparently come to participate in had already began. Tenzin and his children were sitting quietly with their backs perfectly straight, and it didn't take long for Korra to guess what they were doing.

They were meditating. This sort of thing was extremely important to airbenders, and if Korra wanted to bend air, she'd have to do it, too.

As silently as she possibly could, Korra slipped into place next to Meelo. She imitated the posture each of the airbenders were in, and, after a moment, shut her eyes and…

…And just what was she supposed to do, exactly?

Korra had been sitting still for all of ten seconds when she realized that while she'd read about the theory of meditating—err, somewhat—throughout her years at the South Pole, no one had ever really shown her how to meditate. That was to say, some of her teachers had told her about the power of meditation; her late firebending master in particular has urged her to meditate on a number of occasions… but Korra had never actually attempted meditation before. It was, to her, just another part of the spiritual pantheon of mumbo-jumbo that she'd never understood.

But then again, Tenzin _was _Mr. Spiritual, so if there was something that she ought to know before meditating, she was sure that he'd tell him. Maybe she was supposed to simply sit still in silence, and it would just click.

So, for a few minutes, Korra did sit still. She didn't say a word, barely moved a muscle… and she felt nothing at all. She didn't calm down; if anything, she felt herself grow more and more bored and more and more eager to get up and hit something.

Korra glanced at the airbenders sitting next to her. Then, she let her posture fail and shook her head.

"I think I'm doing it wrong," she said.

"There's nothing _to_ do," Tenzin said, and without opening his eyes, he managed to fix a stern glare on Korra. "Just… let your mind and your spirit be free, as air is the element of freedom."

Korra twitched. She then attempted to meditate again, allowing herself to slip into a state of consciousness that was not her own…

"Yeah, not working," she said some seconds later. "I'm going to go and get some lychee juice."

As Korra stood up to leave, she heard Ikki ask to join her, only to be curtly turned down by her father. That made Korra wonder why she was being allowed an exemption from meditation, but not for long.

She was allowed to get her lychee juice, all right. After that, though, the training Tenzin put her through made meditation seem like a vacation.

* * *

They trained from early in the morning to late in the afternoon without breaking for a meal. That didn't suit Korra; she had been forced to train hard and eat properly from a young age, but Tenzin had said that fasting was good for the kind of things they'd attempt to do. He had explained that when one fasted, it helped one realize just how different the body and the spirit were, and eased the separation of the two.

Korra hadn't understood it at the time. And now, as the Sun hung low in the sky, she still didn't understand it.

She was exhausted from the difficult day and the lack of food. Tenzin had put her through her paces in ways that she had never been pushed before. Rather than having her attempt feats of physical strength or endurance, he had had her focus on her balance and her agility. He'd had her walk on tightropes, dodge folded pieces of parchment he sent toward her with miniscule bursts of air, and then he'd had her attempt meditation again.

But this time, she'd attempted meditation in a squatting position with teacups carefully balanced on her head, shoulders, thighs, and her outstretched arms.

Tenzin had explained that by straining her body but allowing her mind to be calm and relaxed, she'd find it easier to realize the difference between the physical and the immaterial. What he hadn't anticipated was that Korra found it impossible to strain her body without at least taxing her mind.

The result was that, some ten minutes later, Korra lost her balance and fell, shattering the fine china into a million tiny pieces.

To his credit, Tenzin didn't get upset. He simply nodded, as if accepting that things were the way they were, and told Korra that they'd trained enough for that day, and, more importantly, there were a number of issues that he had to deal with. So, she was free for about two hours before she'd be expected for dinner, and after that, she would be free for another few hours before she'd have to go to sleep.

After all, Tenzin had said, this had just been their first day of training, and Korra had just gotten her feet wet. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.

* * *

Dinner helped Korra relax, at least to a degree. The training Tenzin had put her through had pushed her, and not in the ways that she was used to being pushed. She could fight, she could run, she could do any number of physical feats, but the careful combinations of agility, balance, and mental testing that Tenzin had put her through were entirely different from anything she'd ever had to do in her life until then.

Already, the sky was darkening. Korra was sitting with her back resting against Naga's side on a rocky outcropping some distance from the section of Tenzin's house that was reserved for her. That was one thing she could appreciate about Air Temple Island—it was luxurious and beautiful, and Korra's responsibilities towards its upkeep were essentially nonexistent. Back in the South Pole, she'd had to keep her room clean, but here, the small army of maids and servants that Tenzin employed took care of all that for her.

She didn't have to worry about security, either. And in that regard, Air Temple Island wasn't any different from the South Pole. In fact, Air Temple Island was starting to get even _more_ secure than the South Pole.

Jinora had mentioned that White Lotus had always protected her and her family, but ever since Korra had come to join them, precautions had been increased, almost to the point of paranoia. There had always been 24/7 sentries and guards posted at Air Temple Island's port, and the garrison of guards that protected the area was housed near enough that they were essentially on-call every minute of every day.

Now, there were 24-hour guards posted _everywhere_, and at night, some of Oogi's brethren were appropriated by the White Lotus every hour to fly around the island, just in case.

The place was as impregnable as the South Pole had been, and the knowledge that she'd be watched closely again, from dawn until dusk until dawn again, made Korra feel very tired all at once. So, she stood up, turning away from the view of the city across the water, and made her way back to her quarters. As she did, she made sure to announce to some of the White Lotus guards nearby that she'd be turning in for the day. She then patted Naga on the haunch and retired to her room, where she stayed…

For about an hour.

Of all the majestic buildings in Republic City, the CIB's was one of the most… peculiar.

It wasn't built like most of them, with flowing contours and the pagoda-shaped roofs that had been the style preferred by Fire Nation architects for an eon. It also wasn't like the simple but bold castles that the Earth Kingdom had adored for centuries.

In some ways, it was similar to the militaristic blocks that defined fortresses in the North Pole. But in most ways, the CIB's headquarters, just a few blocks offset from the administrative center of Republic City, was in a class by itself.

It had been designed by a military man, a northern waterbender who had lost both of his legs and the use of an arm during the Hundred Year War. Etched into the massive pieces of stone and metal that formed the intimidating entrance to the headquarters were distant reminders of the pain the man had suffered, and Tenzin felt a chill every time he got close to the building, no matter how often he went there. It was a behemoth, a twenty-story building that covered a whole city block. It wasn't just the CIB's headquarters, it was its training area, its classrooms, and where it housed the several hundred men and women it employed.

In many ways, the CIB headquarters was a perfect example of putting all of one's eggs into one basket. In this case, though, Tenzin didn't see any problems with putting all of one's eggs into one basket, because that one basket was so heavily defended that to attempt to infiltrate it would be to demand death.

It was, quite possibly, the safest place on the planet.

It was also one of the creepiest.

For reasons that Tenzin couldn't fathom, CIB headquarters weren't fully lit. The lights that lined the winding, mysterious hallways were dim at best, and at worst, it was difficult to tell if one was in a hallway or simply in a black depth or empty space. Worse yet, CIB officials constantly changed rooms, as if to intentionally irritate or confuse their few visitors, so Tenzin was reduced to having an escort every time he came to see someone.

Maybe that was why they changed rooms so often—so that they had an excuse to have one of their members with him all the time.

Still, Tenzin trusted the CIB. Its members were often creepy, and sometimes, the ideas they posited to deal with the problems as defined by the Council were shocking, but they were neutral in every sense of the world. They were given problems and they tried to think of ways to solve them, and it was up to the Council to insert ethics into the equation. Just as long as the CIB obeyed the Council, Tenzin had no quarrel with them.

He kept this in mind as he entered the office of a man he'd always had problems with: the director of the CIB.

"Huang," Tenzin greeted him simply, "tell me about developments in the investigation into Quan So's assassination, and its relationship to the continuing investigation into the Followers of the Black God."

That was how Huang liked to be approached: with a brief, simple greeting, and an unambiguous explanation of what was to be discussed. He wasn't a tall man at all, and he was a nonbender, but there was a strange air of something very close to malice about him. He was, after all, the one responsible for ordering disappearances in the night, censorship, and some of the more sensitive security measures that Republic City and the rest of the United Republic of Nations had in place, and he was also a man who had had to struggle and fight for everything he had.

For that reason, he was an incredibly competent and qualified individual. He was just creepy—that was all.

"We haven't found anything else related to Quan So's assassination," Huang said. "No one has taken responsibility for it, and we have not ruled out the possibility that it was done by someone other than the Followers."

"Who else has the motive and means to kidnap and torture a police chief—and then dump him back into the street?" Tenzin asked. "Did Quan So have any enemies? Triad activity where he was stationed was not significant. Who else would have burned him and then left him in the street? Who else would send a message like that?"

"No one," Huang said, "that we know of. However, Quan So seems to have had a… difficult past, so we're investigating any potential criminal contacts he may have had. It seems that he has a history of being… unpleasant toward the Sarrakan community, and that may have led the Followers to attack him, but we cannot confirm that at this point."

Tenzin sighed. In far more words than were necessary, Huang had simply said, "We don't _know_ that it was the Followers, but we have no other suspects and no reason to believe that there are any other suspects."

"Keep investigating Quan So," Tenzin said. "I assume there were no witnesses surrounding his capture, or his return? None at all?"

Huang shook his head. Then, after a pause, he spoke.

"None will come forward," he replied, "but the police station is surrounded by Sarrakan-owned properties. One of them may have seen something, but won't say anything. At your command, I could look into ways to loosen their tongues…"

"Out of the question," Tenzin said with a sudden hardness in his voice. "And do not speak of such things to me again. The Constitution of the United Republic of Nations explicitly forbids what you're talking about. If you try anything like that, it won't matter if you get any information or not—you'll be sentenced to death, and I assure you that there will be at least one Council member who will refuse to pardon you. You will be executed by your own colleagues, and there won't be anything anyone can do to stop it."

Tenzin paused. He took in a breath.

"Do _not_ speak of such things to me again."

"Of course, Councilman Tenzin," Huang said after only the slightest pause. He simply sat at his desk with his back straight and his hands neatly folded before him. "I would never dream of violating your explicit orders, or our Constitution. The intelligence community of our city is incapable of such activity."

Tenzin's eyes narrowed, before he realized that the director of the CIB was far too serious and severe of a man to taunt anyone, let alone one of the very few people who had the power to knock him off of his high horse.

"Have CIB agents, or the Metalbending Police, been able to develop any contacts within the Sarrakan community?"

Tenzin asked that, but he knew what the answer was even before Huang started to shake his head.

"We haven't," the CIB director said. "Furthermore, passive forms of surveillance have been failing. We've sent undercover agents into Sarrakan communities, but we believe they're continually compromised within minutes. We've dressed them like waterbenders, earthbenders, firebenders, and even Sarrakans, but the moment they enter the streets, everyone seems to know who they are. Everyone seems to know that they don't belong there, so their efforts get nowhere. The Sarrakans are too exclusive and too united to be penetrated."

"What about community outreach programs?" Tenzin asked. "We've attempted those in the past, and they were met with more success, weren't they?"

This time, Huang nodded.

"We've organized a few gatherings around Sarrakan and other communities. Members of the older generation never show up, but we have had some young Sarrakans come and play games with Metalbending Police and some other government figures. The moment the regular police or the CIB get involved, however, is the moment that the Sarrakans stop showing up completely. They seem to be friendly enough to get along with some government figures on a day to day basis, but… years of mistreatment by the standard police, and my own organization, have made it difficult for them to trust anyone. At this stage, Sarrakans are even hesitant to trust common earthbenders—not even earthbenders, but common _non_benders from the Earth Kingdom. Fostering positive relations within that community will take years of work."

That was one thing that Tenzin liked about Huang—he was realistic, and held no delusions whatsoever about how continued pressure from the CIB and continued oppression by the regular police shaped the opinions of Sarrakans. He seemed to appreciate that whenever the CIB took new steps to fight against the Followers of the Black God, they were playing with fire—they had to work against the Followers, of course, but if the Sarrakan community felt attack, more of them would lend their support to the Followers.

It was a very difficult situation, and there were no obvious answers. Well… perhaps there were.

"Have you thought about cracking down on police brutality?" Tenzin asked. "The CIB and the Metalbending Police are charged with the responsibility of dealing with corruption in law enforcement, and there's no doubt that many members of the regular police force constantly mistreat Sarrakans."

"We are, that's true," Huang said, slowly brining a slim hand to his face. He thought, for a moment, before speaking again.

"The CIB is currently understaffed, however. We have a lot on our plates in addition to the Followers case—triads, ethnic gangs, Burning Dawn, investigations into white collar crime. May I respectfully suggest that you charge Chief Beifong with investigations into police brutality? Her organization is much more suited toward that kind of work, and it'll leave my agents free to continue to investigate the Followers, and the other groups we're interested in."

Tenzin nodded a few times.

"I understand," he said. "May I inform Lin that your organization will fully support her investigations in any way that she sees fit?

There was the briefest pause before Huang nodded.

"Certainly, Councilman Tenzin. The CIB will be proud to fight police brutality—"

"Police brutality? Who are you talking about such nonsense to, Huang—ah, Councilman Tenzin. I should have known."

The head of the United Republic Council had entered the room without a word of warning, and when he did, Huang stood up instantly. Tenzin remained seated, however, as Tarrlok, Chairman of the Council, approached the two men already in the room.

"Gentlemen," he said coolly with a broad smile that Tenzin had never been able to trust, "it's good to see you both again. Especially you, Tenzin—I thought that you'd be settling into the South Pole by now."

"You know that the situation demands that I remain here, Tarrlok," Tenzin replied. "Besides, now that the Avatar is in Republic City, there is no reason for me to be anywhere else."

"So it's true—the Avatar is in Republic City," Tarrlok repeated. "I never thought I'd hear those words so soon…"

He smiled, and this time, Tenzin trusted his smile. Tarrlok had long looked forward to the presence of Korra in Republic City, because he'd heard about how powerful she was for years. With her on his side, he believed that he could bring the Followers of the Black God to justice in a month, and get the whole Sarrakan community under control in a year.

"Anyway," Tarrlok said abruptly, "what are we talking about?"

"I have just updated Councilman Tenzin on our ongoing investigations into Quan So's assassination, and its likely relation to the Followers of the Black God," Huang said. "We briefly discussed our options in dealing with the Sarrakan community's… insular nature, and Councilman Tenzin suggested that the Metalbending Police be ordered to focus on ending brutality and abuse by the regular police force, with the complete support of the CIB."

Tarrlok flushed. He leaned back in his chair and brought his fingertips together, almost glaring at Huang.

"And your opinion about this is…?"

"It's a reasonable suggestion," Huang said. "The CIB and the Metalbending Police are charged with dealing with corruption in the regular police force, and if we're able to foster good relations with the Sarrakan community, we may be able to make develop contacts. We may even be able to defuse the entire Followers of the Black God movement, if it is indeed an expression of popular outrage and distrust toward the government. And we can do it all without passing any new laws or creating any more controversial programs that could turn the Sarrakan community against us."

"But the Sarrakan community _is_ against us," Tarrlok said, looking at Huang with a strange expression on his face. "They always have been, from before the first one of them set foot in this city. They've historically been the enemies of civilization and progress in the world, just ask any other person of northern heritage. These are not people like us, and we can't expect for them to respond well to anything we do."

Tenzin felt himself twitch.

"Tarrlok, is it not true that after the first wave of the Followers of the Black God was defeated, the Metalbending Police charged several dozen police officers—not just officers, but local chiefs—with crimes against the Sarrakan community, such as murder, assault, and extortion? Is it not true that for a few years during the prosecution, the Sarrakan community caused no problems in Republic City?"

"So it would seem," Tarrlok replied, slowly turning to face the other Council member. "But I think you're reading things wrong, Tenzin. The reason the Sarrakans calmed down after the first wave of the Followers was that they'd had their fun. That's as simple as it is."

Tenzin didn't respond to that. He just stared at Tarrlok to make it clear how strange he thought the other man's opinions were. Briefly, Tenzin glanced at Huang, and he was glad to see that the director of the CIB didn't find Tarrlok's explanation particularly convincing.

"It's simply a waste of time to shift Metalbending Police resources towards dealing with the nonexistent problem of police brutality," Tarrlok said calmly. "They should be focusing on real issues, like the Followers, triads, or Burning Dawn."

"Regardless of your opinion on how pressing the issue of police brutality is in this city," Tenzin said, "the Constitution of the United Republic of Nations makes it clear that it is the responsibility of the Metalbending Police and the CIB to deal with police brutality. So, I will formally instruct Head Chief Lin Beifong and Director Xiao Huang to do their duties. I will regard any attempts to stop me as attempts to engage in unconstitutional activity… and all that that implies."

Tarrlok's eyes narrowed, but he still managed to grin.

"The Constitution of the United Republic of Nations… why do you so revere that tattered piece of paper, Tenzin? It's decades out of date. If we want to live, we have to look at it as a living document, and interpret it to suit the needs of the modern world."

"That tattered piece of paper is the legacy of my father," Tenzin says, "and it has proven to be the only conceivable way in which people of every caste, creed, religion, race, and nation can live together in the same country. As I said, Chairman Tarrlok, I will regard any attempts to stop me from instructing the CIB and the Metalbending Police to do their job as unconstitutional, impeachable offenses. The Council will not look kindly on those who violate the Constitution, Chairman—you know that."

Tarrlok's eyes narrowed even further. And this time, he did not manage to grin.

"You can instruct the CIB and the Metalbending Police to do their jobs," Tarrlok finally said, "but so can I. And, as Chariman of the United Republic Council, I can tell the CIB and the Metalbending Police _how_ to do their jobs. I can even tell them how to prioritize things, and that they are to ignore miniscule or nonexistent issues in order to focus their attention on real, serious problems… instead of wasting time and resources investigating unsubstantiated claims."

Tenzin didn't respond to that, because he couldn't. It was true that the Chairman of the Council had more power than the rest of the members, and apart from that… well, no one could seriously doubt that there were problems between the police and the Sarrakan community, but the other Council members were often swayed by Tarrlok's persuasive words. A few fiery speeches here, and few pleas and promises there, and they could well be convinced to close their eyes to the fact that Sarrakans sometimes responded with violence to police aggression—not the other way around.

"Huang," Tenzin said, although his eyes were fixed on Tarrlok's, "the Constitution is clear; you are to listen to and obey Chairman Tarrlok, given that you aren't ordered to do anything that would violate the law, your conscience, or your judgment as director of the CIB. With that said, I'd like your opinion—_if_ we were to divert some resources away from lesser threats to Republic City, such as Burning Dawn, and use them to crack down on police brutality… would we see results in the Sarrakan community? Would we defuse the popular resentment that powers the Followers of the Black God?"

Huang was silent for a moment, but it wasn't because he was a political man. Certainly he was smart enough to realize that responding to Tenzin's question one way or the other would have ramifications for his career, and whatever kickbacks he got at the end of it, but for some reason—even Tenzin wasn't sure what it was—Huang simply didn't play that way. He did his job to the best of his ability, and if his opinions made him unpopular with politicians, that was just something that he dealt with. Any answer he gave to Tenzin and Tarrlok, then, would be the complete, unambiguous, total truth.

"I cannot be sure," he said after a few seconds, "but that's simply because we haven't tried anything like this since before I was with the CIB. So much can change in several generations, but if we are reading things correctly that Sarrakans are severely displeased with the police… then we do stand a good chance of taking the rug out from under the feet of the Followers if we can eliminate, or simply reduce police brutality.

"Chairman Tarrlok," Huang said after a pause, "I'd like to formally request your permission to investigate police brutality in Republic City. Please rest assured that the CIB will not scrutinize any departments where there doesn't seem to be a pattern of abuse, but know that we have every intention of doing our jobs."

Tenzin tried not to smile. He thought he'd won the round for sure until Tarrlok glared at Huang and spoke in such a dark tone that if Tenzin had had any hair on the back of his neck, it would have stood on end.

"Then do your job," Tarrlok growled, "and focus on real issues. The Followers. The triads. Burning Dawn. These are real threats, and concerns that you should be looking into, Director Huang. That is all."

Tarrlok stood up and moved to leave, but Tenzin stopped him.

"Tarrlok, you've heard what Huang said, and you know that no one can question his motives. We have a real chance to stave off the Followers strength without any more controversy or difficulty, and without a single further life lost. Do you really want to throw that chance away because it's not flashy enough to see you voted Chairman again next election?"

Tarrlok didn't respond to that. He simply looked at Tenzin with an expression on his face that couldn't be understood before leaving the room without any more ado.

Tenzin watched him leave, and knew that he could not let this stand. The Council would be hearing about what had happened in the CIB director's office for certain.

* * *

Although darkness had fallen, the level of near-paranoid vigilance that the White Lotus guards assigned to Air Temple Island maintained had not, and that made Korra's job difficult. Still, the obstacles she faced were far from insurmountable, given that the White Lotus was watching out for infiltration, not exfilitration. Getting back into Air Temple Island would take some acrobatics, but getting out of it was no more difficult than slipping into the bushes, waiting for a few moments, and then diving into the ocean.

From there, Korra had kept underwater, for some dozens of yards, before surfacing for air. She took the opportunity to check if she'd been spotted—she hadn't—so she set off toward Republic City at top speed.

And, given that she was a master waterbender, her top speed was quite a considerable speed indeed. By forcing the waves to propel her in a way that no nonbending swimmer could ever hope to move, she got closer and closer to her destination, faster and faster, before all at once she leaped out of the water and found herself on the doorsteps of one of the most famous, luxurious, and violent institutions in the city: the pro-bending arena.

Korra had been following pro-bending for some years, now, but there were no radio stations that served the South Pole. She read about pro-bending in newspapers, and the journalists that covered them were always careful to mention the injuries occasionally suffered by the contestants themselves. They were also careful to never mention that the fans suffered injuries with far greater frequency; in fact, matches often had to be delayed or even shut down due to rioting or brawling in the stands.

Even though Korra was still outside the arena, she could see how chaotic things were. Throngs of hundreds of people were collected outside to listen to what the announcer had to say; his voice was blasted out into the open air by a series of ultra-powerful megaphones set up around the arena. When he said something that they liked, they cheered, and when he said something they didn't like, they booed, and shouted, and swore with such hatred in their voices that it made Korra shiver.

And that was when she realized that the crowds were not on one side or the other, not exactly. Some of the crowds were for some teams, and other crowds were not. Like-minded fans stuck together, Korra observed, but now and then, little skirmishes would erupt—shouting matches that escalated into pushing—and sometimes, those little skirmishes would become brief but intense brawls before they were, thankfully, broken up.

As Korra made her way through the teeming masses, the filth, sweat, and excitement of the whole thing pressed in on her. Some men offered her drugs, some leered at her in a way that made her wince, and some of them were so heavily tattooed that Korra couldn't tell if they were smiling or leering or glaring or frowning when they looked at her. The whole thing was chaos defined and depravity in essence.

Korra loved every second of it.

She was glad, though, that she was so tall and well built. As a lone woman in such a crowd, a lot of unwanted attention was going her way, and it wasn't at all hard to imagine that some of the grimmer people in the crowd wouldn't hesitate to have their ways with her if they could. Some of them wouldn't hesitate to kill her and then have their ways with her, Korra realized, and that made her shiver before touching the shimmering black vest she wore under her clothes just to make sure it was still there.

Korra looked up when the crowds around her exploded in a series of jeers and swearwords, and that was when she realized that she was not the only one who was wearing that kind of a vest.

Perhaps twenty individuals were making their way through the crowd, and it was easy to tell by the way they walked that they were together. They were tightly grouped up as they made their way to the arena entrance, the taller, more muscular members of the group were on the outside of the pack whereas younger, smaller members of the group were on the inside. One or two women seemed to be with them, and whenever any insults or curses were thrown at them in particular, the group at large would seem to bristle and dare someone to attack them.

No one attacked them, though, despite the ferocity of the verbal spears hurled at them. Some members of the crowds outside of the arena didn't seem to care about these newcomers, but most were unhappy to see them. Some members of the crowd outright hated them and feigned attacks, pretending to lunge forward at the group as if begging to evoke a violent response.

Korra noticed little of this, though, and that was because she was too busy looking—no, _staring_ at the newcomers.

And that was because the newcomers were the most beautiful people she had ever seen in her life.

They were fair of skin, but not in the same way upper-class members of the Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation were. These people were often extremely pale, ivory in complexion, even, and the darker-skinned members of their group had skin that was similar to an exotic mixture between the dark complexions Korra's own race had, and the subdued paleness of a upper-class Earth Kingdom noble.

And their facial features were like none Korra had ever seen in the past. They had powerful jaws, and some of the finest, most dainty noses Korra had ever seen in her life. Many had told her, in her life, that she was an attractive young lady, but Korra knew that even the least striking member of the group walking past her was far more beautiful than she ever would be.

Their hair was again rare, exotic, different, beautiful, like a unique gem in a sea of rocks and sand. It was straight but thick and it was _red_, a color Korra had never expected to see in hair ever before. Some of the men had darker hair that wasn't so very different from the very deep auburn one occasionally saw among members of hyperborean Fire Nation races; a rich, coppery umber that seemed to shimmer due to the dim lights leading up to the arena. But some of the more fair-haired men, and the women, had hair that Korra couldn't have compared to anything else but a fiery broth that served for the base of many soups commonly eaten by the Southern Water Tribe, and it was so remarkably different from anything else Korra had seen in her life that for more than a few seconds, she was struck.

And then someone shoved past her to throw a bottle at these beautiful people.

Korra was too surprised by the sudden act of violence that she couldn't stop the perpetrator, or pursue him before he disappeared into the crowds. That one thrown bottle, however, changed the situation from a tense standoff to something that was so close to an all-out battle in about a second.

The red-haired people bunched up and assumed fighting stances, and from the way they stood and moved Korra could see that they were preparing to use chi blocking techniques. She could also tell from their body language that while they had no particular desire to fight, they were fully prepared to use force to defend themselves—even the women, who until then had been carefully guarded, stepped forward and grimly surveyed the crowds before them.

No more bottles were thrown, but the ferocity of the insults hurled at the newcomers simply increased. People began to press closer and closer to them, and it seemed that things would certainly come to blows when, all at once, the situation was defused.

Burly men—older men, not young people or teenagers like the newcomers seemed to be—suddenly approached from the arena in a group of perhaps three dozen. These were tough men with scarred faces and fists the size of ham hocks, and they were mixed in race, appearance, and bending ability. Korra watched as they intimidated the crowd into giving them, and the red-haired people some space with shows of force that included fire blasts, earthbending techniques, and one or two water whips, before they circled around the red-haired young people and rapidly ushered them toward the arena.

It had taken minutes to build up and it had taken seconds to be calmed down. And seconds after that, the crowds returned to the drug dealing, swearing, cheering, and fighting that they had been doing until them.

Korra had never seen such hate rise so quickly out of nowhere, for no reason before, and she was shocked that people picked it up and left it behind so quickly that it was as if it was a natural response. The red-haired people had… had done _nothing_ except for being beautiful, and being there, so why…?

It was then that Korra realized who the red-haired people were and why they were hated. They were Sarrakans, and if there had been any doubt about that in Korra's mind, it was destroyed when she realized that some of the taunts the crowd had shouted at them had included the name of their race, twisted and contorted so that it fit into cruel rhymes and chants.

Come to think of it, she had seen several of them wearing black garments under their coats that shimmered and flowed in a way that nothing else in the world did… nothing besides her own vest.

That made her brow furrow. She fingered that weightless, shimmering undershirt for a moment and thought about who had given it to her, as well as how strange he looked for someone who she had only ever thought of as being completely, 100% part of the Fire Nation's dominant ethnic group. He had been old, it was true, but in his face was evidence that decades ago, he'd been good looking. Maybe even more than good looking. Apart from that, his hair had been somewhat fair, and in certain lights, it had appeared to be fairer still than the deep brown it generally appeared to be.

Sometime soon, Korra would have to ask a few pointed questions about Zhao. She'd have to ask about his life, where he was from, and what his family's history was.

For now, though, there was a pro-bending match that she simply had to see. On the lips of every member in the crowd were the names of the next teams to compete: the Sea Devils and the Fire Ferrets.

Korra had heard a little about the Sea Devils, but she'd been following the Fire Ferrets for some time and knew that while they were greenhorns, each of their members were skilled fighters with a lot of potential. The chance to see them fighting life was that she couldn't pass up period, no matter that she didn't have a ticket to get into the arena.

She was the Avatar, and she'd just passed her firebending examination. She knew that where there was the will to do a task, there was the will to find a way that the task could be done.

* * *

It was surprising that despite the security precautions that the arena had taken to prevent any unauthorized entry, sneaking in hadn't been at all difficult for Korra. All she'd had to do was to swim a little bit and then perform a simple waterspout technique to make her way into a second floor window on the far side of the arena, and that was that.

She supposed that there were so few waterbenders in Republic City, and those who were there were so wealthy and well-connected that getting to a pro-bending match wasn't difficult at all. It therefore followed that any security precautions that were taken at the arena were geared toward, well, anything _but_ the efforts of a skilled waterbender.

Regardless, though—_she was in the arena_. After years of dreaming and hours of wishing, she was actually inside the Republic City arena, where the best pro-bending teams in the world battled with one another almost every night. Better yet, she had arrived just in time to see the Fire Ferrets fight!... if only she could find her way to the stadium itself.

Korra was in a hallway, of some sort, and how clean and quiet it was suggested that it was rarely used, and even then, that it wasn't used by the general public. That concerned her, somewhat, because if someone found here there, she was likely to be stopped, questioned, and asked for her ticket stub. If that happened… she tried not to think about it and immediately began to move.

She made her way to where the roar of the crowd in the arena seemed the loudest, and that seemed to work. Within minutes she had slipped through a doorway that it didn't seem most people were supposed to past, but once she had she entered the crowds just outside it too quickly for anyone to notice, let alone inform security.

From there, it was a simple matter to find a door that led to the stadium itself. She knew which door it was, because it was vibrating on its hinges thanks to the sheer amount of noise that seemed to be waiting behind it.

Once Korra was in, she was almost overwhelmed by the sensory overload. The noise was, of course, so significant that too much exposure to it was certain to lead to permanent hearing damage, but apart from that, there was so much to see that Korra almost had to shut her eyes for a moment. There were so many people—thousands of them—and although the actual field was some distance from the stand, it was so isolated in the center of the stadium that it was easy to see what was going on. At the moment, however, no fight was actually taking place, so members of the audience were talking, eating, drinking, smoking, and, most importantly of all, fighting.

Korra seemed to have made her way into a more expensive section of seats, because the people near where she was were noticeably—well, _cleaner_ than everyone else in the arena. Members of the Northern Water Tribe were common in that section of seats, so Korra didn't look out of place, and indeed was nodded to politely by several of the people she passed as she made her way to a vacant seat. There was an increased security presence in the area, and Korra knew that it wasn't because the people in these seats were likely to start fights with each other. Security was there to stop them from being mugged or mobbed by the rest of the audience.

And the rest of the audience was pretty rowdy. Even though they were between matches, just then, it seemed that lines between factions of different fans were almost battle zones. Bottles were thrown and insults were hurled constantly, and the whole stadium seemed to constantly be on the edge of brawling at any time. Security had a full-time job; even as Korra watched she could see the big men in their uniforms haul off the more violent, drunk members of the audience for formal arrest by police, or simply to back rooms in the stadium where they might be slapped around a bit before being thrown into the street.

One thing that Korra wasn't surprised to notice was that there were some Sarrakans in the stadium. She could pick them out of the crowds with ease, thanks to their hair, and also thanks to the fact that they were all sitting with one another, in the worst, dingiest part of the stadium, farthest from the playing field. She could see them all sitting down quietly and speaking to one another, even as the crowds around them howled insults and worse with startling frequency.

They were still doing nothing wrong, at least as far as Korra could see. They were just… sitting there and waiting for the match to start, and that itself seemed to offend their peers.

It was saddening to watch, and concerning, considering how outnumbered the Sarrakans were. Korra had seen that they seemed to be at least somewhat proficient with chi blocking, but the fact was that for every one of them, there were ten members of the crowd who might go at them. Add bending, chaos, and no obvious escape routes to the mix, and Korra was starting to feel that it was really irresponsible for them to even be in the arena. They were so hated that they really ought to leave...

That would have been the practical solution, Korra realized, but it would have been morally unacceptable. From a young age, Korra had had a very strong sense of right and wrong, and the idea of letting thugs and racists tell one how to live one's life made her grit her teeth.

The Sarrakans had every right to be in the arena. If they were attacked, they'd have every right to defend themselves—and for that matter, they'd have every right to Korra's assistance, because even though she had only barely heard of them for the first time a few days ago, and even though she had never met a Sarrakan in her life, she was their Avatar too.

* * *

"_Korra is the Avatar,"_ Tenzin said to himself,_ "and she's everybody's Avatar, even the Sarrakans'."_

For that reason, maybe Korra was a rather spiritual being after all, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Maybe when she spoke, it wasn't just her speaking, but the collective wisdom of a thousand generations speaking through her. Maybe that was why she'd been able to convince Tenzin to let her stay and train with him at Air Temple Island, because it hadn't _just_ been her convincing him, but the will of the Spirits themselves convincing him.

Maybe it was fated that Korra would learn airbending from him. Tenzin couldn't be sure of that, of course, but there was no doubt that he was growing to support Korra's presence in the Republic City. If nothing else, he knew that it would force the Followers of the Black God between a rock and a hard place, as they struggled to survive the greatest efforts of Republic City's intelligence and law enforcement services while engaging in guerilla activity designed to scare Korra out of the city.

They'd start to panic when they realized that Korra was still in the city. When they did, they'd be bold and hasty, and many people would die. But the Followers would be so bold and so hasty that they'd make mistakes, and the CIB would use these to rout the organization from whatever direction they were able to.

Or, alternatively, the Followers were much more powerful than anyone had anticipated and Korra's presence in the city would simply force them to speed up their plans. And that was bad, not just because Tenzin didn't know what their plans were, he didn't know what their endgame was.

Years ago, it had been clear that the various Followers of the Black God groups wanted for Sarrakans to be treated fairly by the city. Now, what the Followers wanted was less clear. They still wanted fair treatment for Sarrakans, but the CIB had contacts in the low-income neighborhoods surrounding Sarrakan communities. There were disturbing rumors, recently, of an increasing sentiment among Sarrakans that bending itself was evil and not only were Sarrakans entitled to equal treatment by the city, they were entitled to independence from the city.

That was nationalism, the antithesis to everything Republic City stood for.

Worse yet, that brand of nationalism was starting to gain a foothold in the rest of Republic City, too. There was Burning Dawn, of course, and there were several earthbending triads in the city who were starting to become less criminal and more political. The waterbenders kept to themselves by nature, and there were many parts of the city that were effectively miniature North Poles… and, of course, the only airbenders in the world lived alone, together, on their private little island.

Korra had been right when she'd said that the situation wasn't going to fix itself. If anything, the situation was getting worse… more dangerous, more complicated, more unknowable, and more unpredictable by the day. Something was coming soon, Tenzin thought with a grim sense of anticipation, or maybe it was several somethings. Whatever it was, or whatever they were, they would shake Republic City to its core and test the limits of the Constitution written to govern it not so very long before.

And Tenzin was supposed to know what to do and act on his conscience. The problem was that his conscience was being yanked in a million different directions at the same time.

The only solution in the short term, then, was to meditate. Maybe if he meditated for long enough, he could understand the Followers—and not just the Followers, but Burning Dawn, the city's underclass, the triads, and maybe even the Sarrakans themselves. After all, they had…

Actually, when Tenzin thought about it, he realized that the Sarrakan community had never exactly proven itself to be insular or exclusive. Sure, Sarrakans only married one another, but that was because no one married them. Apart from that, people of other nationalities walked through their neighborhoods without fear all the time, and Sarrakan culture itself placed a high value on courtesy, politeness, and hospitality.

Tenzin didn't know what he would do, but he knew what his father would have done in a situation like this. He would have gone to the nearest Sarrakan neighborhood then and there and he would have talked to anyone who would listen to him, but more importantly, he would listen to anyone who wanted to talk to him.

It was almost unbelievable that a situation so complicated and so tense could be defused or even destroyed just with dialogue. But no one had ever really tried to talk to the Sarrakans, not really. Sure, there were a few community outreach programs here and there, and sure, after the first wave of the Followers, the CIB and the Metalbending Police had cracked down on abuse and brutality, but no one had ever really spoken to the Sarrakans. They had precisely zero representation in the government—they were the one nation that didn't have a seat on the Council, even. They had no representatives with whom to voice their complaints, they had no police, they had no courts willing to sort out disagreements peacefully—they lived in Republic City, but they enjoyed none of the benefits of doing so. They barely even enjoyed the benefits of civilization, in many ways.

Maybe Tenzin really would go to the Sarrakan community someday. Aang would have gone alone and unarmed, and Tenzin would go unarmed… but he would have White Lotus bodyguards with him, because although he was willing to trust that the Sarrakan community wouldn't kill him on sight, he wasn't willing to trust that the Followers wouldn't do something violent to him at the first opportunity.

And maybe… maybe he'd bring Korra with him. She was the Avatar, after all, and she was _their_ Avatar too. She was one of the very few people in the city who bore no prejudices against Sarrakans, and besides that, there was a legend, an old legend from the isolated communities of Sarrakans and Fire Nation tribes who lived in the far north of the Fire Nation. That legend said that there was a person from several worlds who would become the protector and leader of Sarrakans and at last give them a place in the world… a home, just for them, where no one would harass or kill them because of who they were.

Maybe Korra was that fated individual. Maybe it wasn't just fated that Korra was to stay with Tenzin in Republic City—maybe it was also fated that she was to be the one who gave Sarrakans their own country.

* * *

At last, the match was starting. At last, Korra would be able to see the Fire Ferrets live, in person, as they took on another pro-bending team.

It wasn't a moment too soon that the announcer bellowed that the match was on, either. The crowd was starting to get antsy, and as alcohol was drunk and drugs were smoked, Korra sensed a strange aura of uneasiness descend around the arena. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, and it was making her think that something _bad_ was going to happen soon.

She must have been mistaken, though, because when it became clear that the match was on, the crowds rose as one and cheered. Benders, nonbenders, every race in the world and even Sarrakans took to their feet all at once and shouted to express their appreciation—and then the competitors themselves appeared.

Korra didn't recognize the Fire Ferrets' opponents, but the Ferrets themselves were unmistakable. The firebender, Mako, was a tall, brown-haired youth who had no eyes for the crowds, or the numerous women in the stands exposing themselves to him, but that was just his style. The newspapers had made it clear, a few times, that he was a stoic, quiet type, who responded to interviewers' questions with monosyllables or silence.

The waterbender was less sullen but every bit as intimidating. He didn't look very different from Korra at all, and that was because he was one of the very few Southern Water Tribe people to exist in Republic City.

The earthbender was the member of the team Korra was least familiar with, and that was because he was new. He'd only joined the Fire Ferrets a few months ago, after the original earthbender—Mako's brother, if Korra recalled correctly—had let pro-bending for some reason. The new earthbender was named… Jin, or something like that, and he was a big, broad-shouldered man who looked like he knew what he was doing. He also looked like he knew what he liked, because he bathed in the crowd's attention. He loved it, he craved it, and when he winked at some of the women trying to catch his eye, they swooned.

Korra paid little attention to this; the silly rituals leading up to the match held no allure for her, but the match itself did. And when it started, it was exciting, amazing, fast-paced and incredible. It was a hundred times better than what Korra could have expected, and a thousand times better than reading about a match in a newspaper.

Unfortunately for the Fire Ferrets, their enemies were veteran pro-benders. They were quick and agile, and for that reason, it was only a few moments before a one-two combo and then a well-timed earthbending attack knocked each of the Ferrets out of zone one.

Although the upper-class citizens around Korra maintained their composure, Korra stood up and shouted a loud, "Come on, Ferrets!" she hoped would inspire the team to fight back and win the round. However, the Tigerdillos knew how to find and exploit weaknesses, because when the Ferrets' waterbender moved too slowly or seemed off-guard, their earthbender struck him hard and knocked him all the way back into zone three.

A moment later, he was swept and then knocked off the field entirely.

The two remaining members of the Fire Ferrets were outnumbered, and though they attempted to defend themselves, there was only so much they could do to stave off the Tigerdillos' onslaught. The announcer enumerated each one of the powerful offensive maneuvers the Dillos used to force the remaining Ferrets into zone three, which gave them victory in round one.

There was a brief pause, then, as the teams reset and huddled to discuss their strategies for the second round. The Dillos only gathered briefly, and Korra guessed that they simply agreed to keep doing as they were doing, whereas the Ferrets seemed rather upset with their waterbender, and Korra could see why. In the past, he'd been a powerful member of the team, according to the articles she'd read, but that night… he just didn't have his mind in the game.

A chant to support the Fire Ferrets echoed from a distant part of the arena, and after a few moments, Korra joined in. She even got some of the audience member sitting near her to join in, until they realized who had initiated that tribal call.

The Sarrakans had, and they were still chanting in support of the Fire Ferrets then. Every last one of the red-haired young people in that distant corner of the arena was on his or her feet and calling for the Fire Ferrets to rally together and win the next rounds, and the match. Tigerdillo supporters didn't like that, of course, but Korra was surprised to see that Fire Ferrets supporters didn't seem to like it either. Legions of fans wearing red began to boo at the Sarrakans and tell them to shut up.

Korra was starting to realize just how much Republic City hated Sarrakans. She'd seen the expressions on the faces of the men and women sitting next to her when they realized that they were chanting along with Sarrakans; they were glares of pure disgust.

Fortunately, the Fire Ferrets seemed to be above the disgusting racism that the rest of the city, and even their fans, held so dear. Mako and the earthbender extended their fisted hands toward the Sarrakans in a sort of salute, and after a moment of prompting, the waterbender nodded at them in an impressively neutral manner. When he did that, in open defiance of the hundreds of years of hatred that his people felt toward Sarrakans, Korra felt an incredible sense of respect for him.

The second round of the match opened up with a sudden offensive that the Fire Ferrets couldn't respond to, and for that reason, they were each knocked back into zone two. They began to fight back as the Dillos advanced, however, and managed to beat them each into zone three with just seconds remaining in the round.

Now, the match was tied up and the audience was starting to get rowdy again. Although fans of different teams were separated by convention and security, the empty seats between them were starting to become battlezones. At the beginning of the match, bottles and insults had been hurled, but things were starting to get far more dangerous quickly. Now, particularly rambunctious fans were starting to use bending to lash out at opposing fans, and brawlers would attack one another with fists and feet every few moments.

Security was really doing a good job by keeping things from exploding into all out chaos. The match had to be delayed for them to be able to subdue the crowds with a sudden wave of arrests and threats, but now, almost every guard on duty was working on holding the line between Tigerdillo supporters and Fire Ferret supporters. Even the security detail assigned to the upper-class members of the audience had been reduced in order for additional manpower to be sent to the likely friction points, and as Korra looked on, she could see that every last security guard that had been posted near the Sarrakans had been called away.

She worried about that, but not for long. Her attention, and everyone else's attention, was now back on the match.

Again, the Tigerdillos opened things up with a salvo of mixed bending. The Ferrets had learned from the past two rounds, however, and each managed to dodge the initial attacks. The waterbender stumbled, however, and after being chased by a blast of fire from the opposing team, fell right into his own earthbender. Knocked down by the unexpected blow, the earthbender fell along with the waterbender, and each were helpless to defend or dodge the powerful earth striker that sent them both flying into the water.

Now, only the firebender was left, and even the most loyal Ferret fan was feeling dismayed. Mako was a great fighter, but even he had his limits and one of the Tigerdillos' attacks was bound to hit him—

Or perhaps not.

Despite the ferocity of the attacks directed at him, Mako remained untouched. He had room to move around and dodge, so he took advantage of it, ducking, dodging, rolling, and diving in all directions to evade the Tigerdillos' efforts. He didn't get a chance to counter any of their attempts, but the Dillos were tiring themselves out and wasting their ammunition.

And when they were sufficiently winded and low on ammo, Mako struck with all the force of a lightning bolt.

A jab. A cross punch. A wide, sweeping roundhouse kick.

Three Tigerdillos stumbled backward, off balance. Then, they were knocked back when Mako leaped into the air and struck downward with three rapid-fire punches. Unable to keep on their feet, they fell into zone two—

The bell signaling the end of the round sounded. Since Mako had gained territory and the Tigerdillos had not, he'd won the round…

Which meant that the Fire Ferrets had won the match.

A thunderous roar rose from the audience, and Korra rose with it. Mako had managed to win in the face overwhelming odds with a combination of incredible technical skill and the shrewd, strategizing mind that had allowed him to strike back _just_ before the round was over. He'd pushed the Dillos back before they could respond and in doing so, he'd secured victory for himself and the Fire Ferrets.

It was the most incredible victory Korra had ever heard of. And that she'd been able to see it in person was making her, and the rest of the Fire Ferrets' fans ecstatic. They were all on their feet, shouting and chanting to celebrate the victory, and even the stoic, wealthy members of the crowd Korra was next to participated in the merrymaking. It had been a superb match, and that the Fire Ferrets had won had made it even better.

The Fire Ferrets supporters were happy, naturally. The Tigerdillos supporters, on the other hand, were not.

They shouted at the ref, insisting that Mako had attacked the Tigerdillos before the bell had gone off, or that he had cheated, but the uniformed observer said nothing in response to these accusations. He simply shook his head, indicating that his judgment would not be questioned, and that was when the Tigerdillos supporters got _really_ mad.

Now, there weren't just occasional brawls on the fault lines between the opposing teams' fans. Now, the Tigerdillos' supporters went on an all-out offensive on the Fire Ferrets' supporters, and although the security guards were competent, professional individuals, they could only do so much when they were caught in the middle of everything. They were very nearly overwhelmed, and Korra could see several of the guards still protecting the wealthy fans around her shouting for someone to call the police before the whole arena was consumed in combat.

Korra needed to help. It was her duty as the Avatar, and she could tell just by looking at the blasts of water, fire, and earth emanating from the meager lines of security guards between the struggling masses that she was a better bender than all of them. If she got involved, she could help to defuse the situation…

Or she could escalate it and make it a hundred times worse. Already, a few individuals unlucky enough to have been grabbed by the crowds were being beaten, and that was bad, but if Korra entered the fray as apparently just another combatant, someone might well get killed. In a strange way, the whole thing was a game—a game in which people might get knocked around and even beaten unconscious, but a game nonetheless. Benders weren't using their powers so far, except for security, so it seemed that no one really wanted to cross the black and white line that separated normal people from killers.

Maybe the best thing to do, then, was to stand down and let the professionals handle it.

When Korra had that thought, she blinked and shook her head. Such a line of thought would never have occurred to her even a few weeks ago, before her fateful, final conversation with her firebending master. Back then, she hadn't known the mark of the Black God and the horror that it was to behold, and she hadn't known that despite how violent people appeared to be, most of them were simply not willing to unleash the power of the Black God onto other human beings.

Korra was about to allow herself to be ushered by security into a safer area when she saw fifteen or twenty earthbenders and waterbenders launch themselves into the air, bypassing a line of security guards entirely. As quickly as they could, they made their way to the one section of the audience behaving rationally just then: the Sarrakans.

And when Korra saw the hateful glints in their eyes, she knew that they were among the rare few members of society who _were_ willing to kill. They were also among the rarer still members of society who _wanted_ to kill.

They cast the first stones and took the Sarrakans by surprise with a vicious but unsynchronized onslaught of earth and water. Some of the red-haired youth closest to the benders were knocked back, bleeding and bruised, but then, they began to fight back. And they were good.

They were quick, they were agile, they were light on their feet and although they were nonbenders without any weapons, they managed to hold their own. They got in close to their enemies and struck them with bare fists and feet, putting bending skills and even entire limbs out of commission. They operated as a team and when some of the smaller, younger members of their group were knocked down, the more proficient fighters rallied around them and broke bones.

The Sarrakans were able to hold their own against an equal number of benders, but when the rest of the crowd saw what was going on, things went from chaotic to Hellish. Taking the melee as an invitation to beat or kill as many Sarrakans as possible, _Fire Ferrets supporters_ leaped into the brawl, and the Sarrakans began to fall.

That was when Korra knew that she had to act.

She dashed down from the high stands where she'd been sitting and dived out of the seating area. She struck the water around the playing field at thirty miles per hour but launched herself out of it at forty, and so she came to her feet again amidst the Sarrakans.

For the briefest fraction of a moment, they almost set upon her. Then, she fought alongside them with earth and fire alike, beating back the racist attackers with brutal force and deadly efficiency.

Well… perhaps "deadly" wasn't the right word. Korra was violent and forceful, no doubt about that—she scorched skin and struck people with rock hard enough to knock the wind out of them, but she restrained herself. She restrained herself because no one had died yet, and she didn't want that to change—not that night, or any other night when she could do something to stop the Black God inexorable quest for human blood.

But she was a powerful enough bender that even with one hand metaphorically tied behind her back, she tipped the scales in the battle and secured the safety of the Sarrakans. She took a few blows of her own in the melee, but her own clothes—and the ultralight vest underneath them—protected her from serious injury. Korra had just beaten off a group of earthbenders when she saw a flash of water in the corner of her eye—

Then she went down, gasping from a terrible pain emanating from her lower rib.

She'd been struck with an icicle launched with such force that if it hadn't been for her vest, Korra would've been skewered. As it was, she'd been badly bruised and winded, and a stunned reflex prevented her from getting back to her feet immediately. As such, she was unable to defend herself—or, rather, she would have been if the Sarrakans hadn't stepped in front of her to stand against the waterbenders follow up attacks.

Korra was just starting to get to her feet when she saw one red-haired boy manage to sneak behind the violent waterbender. Once he was there, he tackled the waterbender to the ground, grabbed his head… and turned it in a direction that it simply wasn't designed to turn.

Korra shouted in horror and was about to launch herself to do something, do _anything_ to save the waterbender, but it was too late. He was dead, and the Sarrakan who had killed him was interspersed in the crowd of his friends. And now that the Black God had shown its mark once, any final vestiges of restraint and playfulness had vanished from the combatants faces. They weren't going to hold back any longer—now, they were fighting to kill.

It was at this point that security members set themselves upon the Sarrakans and the final benders who continued to stand against them. They managed to pull apart the few remaining brawlers, and when the Sarrakans realized that the time for fighting was no more, they rallied together and allowed themselves to be ushered out of the stadium with Korra still in their midst.

Some of them were bleeding. Many of them were bruised. All of them, however, were alive, and this was despite that some of them had been attacked with knives or sharpened bits of earth. Korra could see that some of them had been stabbed and slashed so viciously that their clothes had come apart in some places, leaving only their skin to protect them—

Along with their vests. They were all wearing scaled black vests that shimmered in the light like only one other vest Korra had seen in the world, and she was wearing that vest. As she staggered along into the hallways outside of the stadium with one hand on her midsection, she realized that their vests and her vest were one and the same. Zhao, the legendary, master firebender, had been in the possession of a Sarrakan vest for all of his life—and before that, his ancestors had; he'd told Korra as much.

Did that mean that… could it be that Zhao had been part Sarrakan?

He was, Korra decided, because there was simply no other way he could have known about the Black God and _respected_ the Black God as if the Sarrakan religion was his own. He was only partially Sarrakan by blood, but by faith, it was clear where his allegiances had lain.

Korra realized, then, that she and the Sarrakans were being taken by security to the hallway not for medical treatment or evacuation, but for arrest. Police were waiting for them there, police in full riot gear, with backup from elite Metalbending Police one fistfight away.

This was absurd. This was ridiculous. This was outrageous. It was so incredibly clear that the Sarrakans had been the _victims_ of the brawl, not the instigators, and while some of them had gone a bit far in defending themselves, _they had been defending themselves_. Korra was just about to raise her voice in protest of what was going on when the garbled voice of a police chief cackled out from a loudspeaker.

"Everybody is to kneel with their hands behind their heads. Do not move and do not resist arrest, or we will hurt you. Your rights to remain silent and to consult with a lawyer have been suspended until further notice as per the UNITED Act, and if we suspect your involvement in further wrongdoing, we may at our discretion detain you indefinitely."

The red-haired teenagers around Korra were practically snarling at the police, but against such force, they had no options. So, they took to their knees, and those of them who were too hurt to safely descend were helped by those who were not. Korra, however, remained on her feet and was about to give the police a piece of her mind when she felt a hand on her skirt firmly tug her downward.

"Be quiet and do what they say," a voice said. "It'll be the worse for you if you don't."

Korra wanted to scream, but something told her to calm down. So, eventually, she managed to slow her breath. A few moments after that, she was able to stop her eyes from darting this way and that, and then she was able to actually take inventory of what had gone on and where she was.

She was in a hallway adjacent to the seats, one that was exposed to the cold night air. In the hallway were police, of course, but hovering just behind them in miniature blimps were the elite Metalbenders. The arena's private security—Korra could tell who they were thanks to the fact that each of them was wearing a tunic with a dark green logo on it—was also a presence in the area as they helped the police keep watch over the Sarrakans, always prepared to let loose with a salvo of earth, fire, and water at the slightest provocation.

Korra was on her knees, she realized, and a moment later, she placed her hands on atop the other behind her head. She looked around, searching for an escape—or, at least, someone who looked reasonable enough to talk to—but the police were all grim-faced and cold, and the Sarrakans were all panting, bleeding, and angry. The only one who seemed to be remotely calm was sitting right next to her.

He was the one who had tugged her skirt and forced her down, and, in doing so, kept the police from using force to arrest her. Korra looked at him and saw that he was roughly her age and roughly her build as well, for that matter. He had an inch or two on her, but that was all, and while he wasn't quite as lean and vascular as a trained pro-bender, there wasn't an excess pound of fat on his frame, either. He looked strong… no, more than strong, he looked _tough_. Korra realized that she'd seen him fight in the chaos at several points, when he'd taken on two waterbenders at once, or when he'd swept the legs out from under an earthbender beating on a younger Sarrakan and then pummeled them into submission with his fists.

His hair wasn't vibrantly red; instead, it was a deep copper that was only a few shades fairer than the deep auburn one sometime saw among people of the Fire Nation. Just then, it was cut rather short, yet it still managed to nicely frame his face. His eyes were halfway between green and blue, and he was slightly tanned—just dark enough to set himself apart from the rest of his race, but fair enough that no one could have mistaken him for a member of the Water Tribe.

He was, by far, the most strikingly attractive man that Korra had ever seen. For a second, her breath caught in her throat—and then she remembered where she was and what was going on.

"What do you mean, be quiet and do what they say?!" Korra demanded. "This is wrong—how can you just let them arrest you like this?"

"What do you expect us to do?" the Sarrakan replied. "If we fight, they'll kill us all, may the Black God prevent that. We can't do anything right now except for accepting this."

"But it's wrong!" Korra protested.

"Right or wrong, that's how it is," the Sarrakan said.

His voice was lowered, unlike Korra's, but the damage had been done. The police had taken an interest in the two of them and were striding toward them fast, batons in hand.

As Korra watched, they shoved him face-first onto the ground and began to cuff him.

That was when she couldn't take it anymore. She stood up and stormed over to the officers, and she would have shoved them off of the Sarrakan if a warning glare from a Metalbender behind them hadn't stopped her.

"What are you doing?" Korra demanded. "These people didn't do anything wrong; they were just defending themselves! _They_ were the ones who were attacked, not the other way around!"

"They incited violence by being at the arena, miss," one of the cops said stiffly. He half-glared at her, but when the Sarrakan he was cuffing fidgeted the smallest amount, he shouted at him and placed the full weight of his body onto his back.

"As a member of the Northern Water Tribe, you know what the Sarrakans are like. They didn't defend themselves tonight; they've never been about defending themselves. Why are you trying to defend them? They grabbed you and beat you up, didn't they?" the officer went on. And when he looked at Korra again, she could see that he was dark-skinned and blue-eyed, just like her.

He was a member of the Northern Water Tribe. That was why he was so prejudiced against the Sarrakans and so hesitant to be firm with her.

Korra could accept his gentleness towards her, despite her obvious belligerence and the way she postured up to him, but she couldn't accept his prejudice. Yet, his prejudice against the Sarrakans was shared by the rest of the police, even those who were of fire, or earth, or mixed heritage. Even the Metalbending Police, who were supposed to be a neutral branch of law enforcement, looked at the Sarrakans with a certain amount of disdain.

And the Sarrakans were still being arrested. The dark-haired boy in particular was cuffed and dragged to his feet, and when that happened, Korra shouted again.

"I'm _not_ a member of the Northern Water Tribe!" she bellowed. "I'm a member of the Southern Water Tribe—hey, stop!"

The dark-haired boy Korra had spoken to was still being led away by the police, so she blocked their path with a spike of earth that rose from the floor just in front of them.

And that caused a reaction.

Security forces were nearest to her, so they were the ones to jump on top of Korra and tackle her to the ground. In her tired, injured state, she had no chance of defending herself from such an unexpected attack from such an unexpected angle, so she went down and felt her arms get pinned behind her back. After that, a Metalbending Police officer cuffed her with a single, deft move, and—

"You're a member of the Southern Water Tribe… and you just bent earth," the police chief said.

Korra looked up and glared at him, watching as comprehension slowly came across his face.

"You're the Avatar."

Everybody present reacted to that. The police all stood extra straight and tall, and the security officers pinning Korra to the ground took some of their considerable weight off of her body. The Sarrakans reacted to the news too, and their responses concerned Korra. Some of them simply looked surprised, but others of them looked angry, or even disgusted, as if she'd insulted them somehow by stepping in on their behalf.

That was strange, especially considering the significant risks Korra had taken by fighting alongside them. In the heat of battle, they seemed to have no problem accepting a bender among their ranks, but now, it seemed that some of them were hardening toward her.

The dark-haired boy who had spoken to Korra, however, simply took in the knowledge that she was the Avatar and didn't react to it. He simply blinked, and nodded, and then tried to adjust the way he was laying on the ground so that his head would be pushed in less of an awkward angle.

Korra drew her eyes away from him and glared at the police chief.

"I _am_ the Avatar," she affirmed, "and I'm everybody's Avatar… even the Sarrakans. I swear that they're not the ones who started the fight—they were attacked, so I jumped in to defend them. Why would they attack anyone—especially benders! Half of their enemies were benders, and you know they can't bend anything. Why would they attack benders?"

"Because they're not _just_ Sarrakans," said the dark-skinned officer, the member of the Northern Water Tribe. He deferred somewhat to Korra's newly revealed identity by bowing to her at the waist before continuing.

"They're the Followers," he positively hissed. "Attacking benders is what they do."

"In public?" Korra said incredulously. "Where everyone can see them? Without the element of surprise? When they're outnumbered ten to one with security and police on site and Metalbending Police on call?"

The officer couldn't easily respond to that, so he looked away from Korra's gaze and fell silent.

Still, no one moved to release any of the Sarrakans who had been arrested, and the dark-haired boy was still in a stress position. He was apparently starting to get terribly uncomfortable, because now he was fidgeting constantly and struggling to breathe properly.

With a shout of frustration, Korra launched a blast of fire over the heads of the police as a display of power, and a threat. It was foolish insofar that if things did come to a fight, Korra barely had a chance of escaping, let alone winning. Yet her daring show made it clear to the police that she was deadly serious.

"They're all Fire Ferrets supporters!" Korra shouted. "Their team had just won; why would they make trouble after that? Does that even make sense to you—"

"They're _all_ Fire Ferrets supporters?" the police chief said. He looked at Korra condescendingly, but not with the outright disdain and lack of regard the police officers of Northern Water Tribe heritage were starting to employ. "All of them? You, boy," he said, suddenly addressing a lanky Sarrakan already in custody, "which team were you supporting?"

The suddenness of the question and the corresponding suddenness of the answer made it clear that the Sarrakan was telling the truth when he said that he was a Fire Ferrets supporter.

Still, the chief looked unconvinced. So, he asked another Sarrakan, and another, but both also affirmed that they were supporting the Fire Ferrets.

"We couldn't support anyone else if we wanted to, sir," the last Sarrakan the chief asked said. "The Fire Ferrets are the only team in the league that accept us as fans."

"How convenient," the chief said. "Unfortunately, since no members of the Fire Ferrets are present, it's your word against common sense. And, frankly, I don't hold your word in very high esteem, so—"

"But I am here, sir."

Korra turned to the doorway leading from the stadium just in time to see _him_ enter: Mako, the firebender and the founding member of the Fire Ferrets. He was still dressed in his protective gear, so there was no mistaking the logo emblazoned on his shoulder and chest pads. Apart from that, there was no mistaking his distinctive hairstyle, nor the thin red scarf he seemed to wear all the time, everywhere.

His eyes were as piercing off the field as they were on the field, it seemed, and just then he was fixing the unflinching glare he had become famous for on the police chief. At the same time, he fearlessly made his way into the midst of the Sarrakans and put his hand on their shoulders without flinching in disgust, as the Northern Water Tribe members did.

"They're right," Mako said. "The Fire Ferrets are the only team in the pro-bending league who accept non-bending fans. We're proud to have anyone's support, whether they're a bender or nonbender, or a Sarrakan, or a Water Tribe member, or an Earth subject, or a Fire national. And as far as what the Avatar said… she's telling you the truth. My fans were viciously set upon by a group of benders for no reason at all, sir."

"Even if I were to believe you," the police chief replied, "the facts are the facts. Two benders were killed tonight, and their wounds are consistent with Sarrakan hand-to-hand techniques."

Korra was chilled by the reminder that the Black God had marked the world that night, but Mako was not. He simply shrugged with such a horrible emptiness about him that Korra shivered.

"My fans were within their rights to defend himself. It's terrible that some people were killed," Mako said in a way was not entirely sincere, "but these things can happen to you if you're part of a racist mob."

The police chief stared at Mako and Korra. Mako and Korra stared back, and eventually, the police chief nodded.

"Deputies," he addressed his subordinates, "release the suspects. We've got the wrong guys."

"What?!"

The Northern Water Tribe officer who had spoken to Korra looked up, shocked, but the police chief simply froze him with a glare.

"Follow your orders, deputy. Release the Sarrakans."

For a moment, the dark-skinned officer, and some of his colleagues seemed as if they were on the very edge of disobeying their orders. Then, they complied—begrudgingly and angrily, but the complied. The Sarrakans were allowed to stand and the ones who had already been cuffed were released and allowed to move about freely again.

Immediately, they all swarmed around Mako and shook his hands to thank him. At least, the boys did—the several female Sarrakans Korra had noticed shied away from Mako and averted their eyes when he looked at them. Instead, they thanked him with their words alone, from a distance, with several male members of their people between them and the pro-bender.

Few of the Sarrakans said a word to Korra. Some of them tried to smile at her before moving away as if they were frightened of her—as if she'd hurt them. She'd just gotten herself badly hurt trying to protect them.

For some reason, they were wary of her, and Korra didn't think it was just because her dark skin and facial features reminded them of the Northern Water Tribe members they'd come to fear and loathe so much over the centuries. She believed that when she had made it clear that she was the Avatar, she had made it clear that somehow, Sarrakans were not to trust her. Barely any of them would even look at her.

The exception was the dark-haired boy who had spoken to Korra. He walked right up to her, bowed, and spoke while looking her in the eye.

"May the Black God never harm you, Avatar," he said. "Thank you for protecting my people this evening, miss…?"

Korra realized he was asking for her name. So, he told her, blushing just a little bit the whole while—he was, after all, an incredibly attractive boy, no matter that he was sweaty and still bleeding from a minor wound on his cheek.

"Korra," she said. "I'm Korra."

"Avatar Korra, it's a pleasure to meet you," the Sarrakan said almost mechanically. He smiled at her suddenly and with such vibrancy that Korra felt herself flush.

"My name is Zaidan."

* * *

Korra was shocked by Tenzin's initial reaction when he'd found out about what she'd done the night before. She was even more shocked by his reaction when he calmed down and had a chance to think about it, because not only was Tenzin not entirely surprised that she'd slipped off to the arena, when she told him that she had made at least one contact in the Sarrakan community, he was both impressed and pleased.

For that reason, he let her go back to the arena the next day, after her training and after she'd been healed. She was going to get a chance to talk to Mako and Zaidan about pro-bending and how it could be used to reach out to the Sarrakan community and defuse the Followers of the Black God situation.

So, Korra made her way to the arena that afternoon in the guise of a janitor. Once she was in, she discovered that Zaidan and Mako were already there, waiting for her in the gym pro-benders used to train for their matches.

The former looked sad. The latter looked absolutely enraged. And they both answered when Korra stepped closer, before she could even ask the question on her lips.

"Jin and Hasook went out to party after the match," Mako positively barked. "I don't know the details yet, but apparently, they were killed by Tigerdillos fans."

"Oh no," Korra said immediately.

Zaidan nodded in response to that, but Mako just sneered and looked away.

"What am I going to do now?" he demanded. "If I don't find new teammates soon, the Fire Ferrets will be out of the tournament this year, and I swore that I'd win the tournament for Bo-Lin. That's my brother," Mako said. "He was killed a few months ago, so I swore to win the tournament in his name. But without teammates… I'm sunk."

When Mako said that, his voice cracked and the seriousness and anger on his face broke. He looked away from Korra in such a dismal, hopeless manner that it made her wince.

"I-I can help," Korra offered. "I'm the Avatar, so I can bend earth, fire, and water—I'd be glad to be a Fire Ferret. It would be a dream come true for me."

Mako looked up, slowly, as if his spirits were somewhat lifted by the offer. He sighed, however, and shook his head.

"Even if you take water or earth, that still leaves one spot I need to fill. How can I find a good waterbender before the Fire Ferrets' next match, which is next week?"

It was intended to be a rhetorical question, but then, Korra and Mako were distracted from the conversation by activity going on not far away. Zaidan, it seemed, had moved away from the two of them and toward two large cauldrons of water used for bending practice…

And there, somehow, he was toying with water in a way that only a bender could.

* * *

(Now this fanfiction is really starting to move. The next chapter will involve more interaction between the new Fire Ferrets, and also Korra and Tenzin's increasing interactions with the Sarrakan community. Of course, none of this is likely to escape the notice of the Followers of the Black God, or Tarrlok.

Please review and tell me about your reactions to this chapter, and your hopes for the rest of the fanfiction. Remember, the better a reception I get, the quicker I will write.)


End file.
